Her
by Star Slightly To The Right
Summary: She was as bright as a star. Just as far away, too. AU
1. Chapter 1

**…**

**…**

Drip. Drop. Drip.

_It had happened on a rainy day. It was boring in the shop. Everything was boring to Ichigo. He had come back home, if only for a day. His sisters were growing up and his father was still the idiotic ass he would always be until the day he dropped dead. _

_His father had left, and the twins with him. Ichigo told them to be safe, it was raining after all, and Isshin had replied with a Hug-of-Justice, which Ichigo dodged, and Karin had grown irritated, leaving the chaos behind her as Yuzu wept for her father's injury. _

Drip. Drop. Drip.

_Ichigo did not come home often. After his mother had passed away, he'd gone into writing, and his books were one of the top-selling. He wasn't exactly smug about that, but it got him enough money to buy a big empty house and peace. It was enough for him. _

_Sighing, Ichigo buried his chin in his folded arms, which were rested on the counter. The clinic was lit up, but no one was coming in. Silently, he stared at the door, watching the rain fall down to the earth in clear ribbons, splattering onto the windows. He nearly huffed – he would have to clean them tomorrow before he left for the drive back home. _

Drip. Drop. Drip.

_There was a flash of lightening. _

_Ichigo paused, surprised. _

Ding, dong.

_Red-golden hair plastered against the small face he was not able to see. It was a female, he knew that, and she was tiny under the large body she was carrying over her back. Ichigo rose, eyes widening, as she dragged the figure inside, hunched over, the beautiful tresses of sunset falling over her slim shoulders. _

_Finally, the wide, wide hazel gaze rose to his. _

_Her tears seemed heavier than the rain outside. _

_She whispered one word, but it was enough to spring him back to life, "Please." _

**…**

**…**

Ichigo was _pissed_.

He was pissed at _Renji_, he was pissed at _this_ _place_, and he was pissed at _himself_. Renji had called him only a few hours ago. Of course, Ichigo had answered – reluctantly – and was surprised to see Renji wished him to accompany him to an after-party. Ichigo usually did not like being around snooty people – all the big-time artists, entertainers, and journalists. Renji was eager, something Ichigo found perplexing, but followed along anyway.

But when the car had brought him straight to a peculiar destination, he busted a vein. A strip club. Really? What kind of fucking after party was this? But he did see Mayuri – a top scientist in Mundo Biology, along with his assistant Nemu. He spotted Byakuya, pristine and face blank, Soi Fon next to the executive director. He was sure, somewhere in there, he saw that prick Aizen, the Head of all corporations.

Ichigo scowled, furrowed eyebrows over his brown gaze, and leaned back in his seat. It was a savvy place – very much done up and spacious. His glare sharpened even more when a young, pretty blonde tried to touch his arm, asking him if he needed some relaxing. Ichigo nearly tossed her across the room.

"No, thanks," He managed to ground out between clenched teeth. The woman blinked, startled, and Renji chose that chance to step in. Sliding her a bill, he smiled politely.

"Please excuse my friend. He's kinda nervous. It's his first time, after all," the redhead said, and the girl's expression melted, and she smiled seductively as she took the money and jammed it into her lacy bra.

"I understand," she drew her hand up from Ichigo's shoulder to his neck, caressing the smooth, taut muscles with her thumb, "No problem. I'm Yui." She murmured, leaning closer, "And if you need anything," She glanced at Renji, and then placed her lips at Ichigo's ear, "and I mean _anything_, don't be afraid to give me a call, ne?"

Renji grinned wolfishly, "Thanks, Yui." The girl left with a wink and Ichigo felt his teeth grind together. Renji's smile fell as he placed his hands on the small, circular table. "You can be such a party-pooper, Ichigo."

"I told you I didn't want to come to this shit-fest." Crossing his arms over his chest, he glowered at him, "This place is disgusting."

"You're too innocent," Renji muttered, "Maybe if you actually relaxed and had a drink—"

"Fuck this," Ichigo growled, standing. He stood from his seat, rummaging in his pocket. When he pulled out a handful of bills, Renji arched his brows, "I'm going home."

"No way!" Renji barked, standing, "You can't leave!"

Ichigo already had his jacket on, "Watch me, asshole."

"Dammit, you bastard! If you leave—"

Suddenly, all the lights shut off. Ichigo tensed, surprised, but his eyes quickly adjusted. Renji was already panicking while murmurs rose, some excited, while others curious. Ichigo watched as the lights flickered back on, a bit darker, and tinged pink. There was a man at the podium with a sly grin, black hair falling over one eye, and dressed in a nice dark suit.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He started, his voice reminding Ichigo of a conniving snake, "My name is Gilga Nnoitra and I'll be your host for this evening's merchandise."

Ichigo raised a brow, subconsciously leaning closer. Glancing down at Renji, he saw the redhead was equally as confused, "Hey," Renji looked up at him, "what is this?"

Renji shrugged, taking another glimpse at the stage, where a spotlight was shone down. Nnoitra's grin widened. "I don't know…"

"Let's begin." He gestured a hand to the stage. Behind the curtain, there was a ruffle and suddenly, a young woman was tugged onto the stage. Ichigo's and Renji's eyes widened. There, a curvy figure, long golden hair, and more chocolate skin exposed than the day when she was born. "This," The two men tugged the struggling girl forward. Nnoitra took a hold of her hair, forcing her eyes up to the audience, "is Harribel. Beautiful, ne? More exotic, than anything."

Ichigo and Renji were gaping by now. The tattooed man swallowed, "You've gotta be kidding me."

But they surely weren't. Ichigo closed his dry mouth and glanced around. Mayuri was grinning, whispering something to Nemu, Byakuya was regarding the stage with an apathetic gaze, and Aizen was nowhere to be seen. The other powerful business men were already bringing out their wallets, standing. The first bargainer said,

"Ten-thousand yen for the girl!"

"Pretty cheap," Nnoitra sang lightly, cupping a hand under his chin with a teasing smirk, "How about we start at forty-thousand?"

Ichigo's fists clenched, "What the fuck—" Suddenly, there was a hand on his fist. Ichigo jerked, and looked down at his longtime friend, Kuchiki Rukia, concern etched onto her small face.

"Ichigo," she said, her voice low, "Now's not the time."

"The fuck are you talking about?!" Ichigo blurted furiously and Rukia glared at him, "They're _selling_ her! Fuckin' _selling_ her, Rukia!"

"It's wrong, yes," Rukia said, crossing her arms. She was quick to avert her gaze, "This is why I did not want you to get involve. This is all…" She shuddered, "Nii-san, doesn't even like bringing me to these things…"

"And I doubt if we went to the police," Renji said, "they would believe us. They'd probably have this place cleaned up before we could even dial." He flickered his gaze to the door, "After all, this place is heavily guarded." Indeed, there were three men by the exit, enough for Ichigo to take, but it would be hell.

"Sold! For five-hundred thousand yen~!" Nnoitra exclaimed, banging a gavel against the wood of his stand. Ichigo glowered at him. He was enjoying himself way too much. With clear disgust, the three friends watched as the curvy woman was taken off stage, quiet now, and her cheeks a deep crimson color.

"This one," Nnoitra leaned close to the microphone, lowering his voice in a sultry whisper, "is a very exquisite find. You don't usually see these kinds of women nowadays." He waved a hand elegantly to the curtain. The red velvet lifted a moment later.

Red-gold.

Ichigo froze.

She was naked, he realized. Perfect, ivory skin. Long, tempting legs were exposed, leading up to rounded hips, and flat stomach. Her breasts were bare – soft and sensually large, small pink nipples hard and perfect. She was bounded as well, wrists tied behind her back, and her mouth was covered by a thin cloth. He remembered that face, that hair, that body, an exact year ago.

As she fell to her knees, her long, thick tresses pooled around her, framing her small, wet face beautifully. Her large, teary honey eyes stared up, outwards to the audience, and it reminded Ichigo vaguely of a deer caught in headlights.

"…go…Ichigo…_Ichigo_!"

He jerked. Rukia and Renji were staring at him, eyebrows upwards, and he felt the sweat on his overheated body.

"You alright?" Rukia asked, voice soft. She reached out to touch him again, but he glared up at the stage. "Ichigo?"

_"No." _

Rukia blinked at his tone, shocked, and the two friends watched as Ichigo pushed past them, and into the crowd, "What the hell?" Renji groused, "What's gotten into him?" When Rukia threw him a dubious, aggravated look, he scratched his cheek sheepishly, "I mean, b-besides all this," he stretched his arms out to the stage to make his point.

"I don't know," Rukia huffed, watching as the orange-haired vanished. She grasped a handful of Renji's nice shirt, "C'mon. We're following him."

"W-What!"

Further in the crowd, Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the ass-host. The crowd's reaction was exactly what he had been looking for, as the men leered and prepared their cash. "A beautiful specimen, is she not? You never see such supple skin like this anymore – creamy, soft," He ran his hand over her smooth back, and she arched away, a muffled squeak leaving her mouth, "and her hair is all natural. Gorgeous color, ne?"

"Five-hundred thousand!" Someone yelled deep in the crowd.

"Ah~ Five-hundred thousand! Does anyone wish to go higher?" Nnoitra's smile was about to split his face in half.

"Five-hundred and fifty thousand yen!" Another yelled, a balled fist in the air full of bills.

"Six-hundred thousand!"

"Six-hundred and twenty thousand!"

"Going once," Nnoitra proclaimed gleefully, gavel high in the air, "Going twice."

"Seven-hundred thousand yen," A new voice said smoothly. Everyone quieted, surprised. Parting the crowd, Aizen stepped through, dressed impeccably, and hands resting in his pockets. Trustworthy assistant Gin walked along beside him with his typical, wide grin.

Nnoitra looked to be drooling, "Ah~ Aizen-sama, such a good fine! Anyone else? Going once, twice, and—"

"Eight-hundred thousand," Said another. The spotlight danced before finally landing on Kurosaki Ichigo. Nnoitra's mouth fell open as Aizen glanced upwards, smirking.

Rukia nearly fell over her own two feet. "I-Ichigo, what're you—"

"Eight-hundred thousand," Ichigo repeated strongly, hands fisted by his sides. And those wide, teary hazel eyes landed on Ichigo, her struggling weakening as they locked with fiery amber.

Nnoitra grinned widely, "What an offer! Eight-hundred thousand going once! Twice! And—"

"Nine-hundred thousand," Aizen called coolly with another smirk. Ichigo redirected his glare to the brunette. "I do not lose, Kurosaki. And besides, she'll look better in my bed, than yours."

Ichigo felt his blunt nails digging into the skin of his fists, "Yeah?" He grinned, feral at the boss before returning his attention to the stage, "One million yen."

Aizen's eyes narrowed as Nnoitra hooted along with the two, "Two million."

Ichigo's grin widened, "Three million."

Renji face-palmed, "What is he doing?"

Rukia didn't reply. Staring hard at her best friend, she tried to decipher his true motive. She knew Ichigo had never liked Aizen, but never put up a fuss about it. It was, in fact, written in the stars that they would never get along, but at the moment, she couldn't exactly tell what was going on. She darted her violet eyes from Aizen to Ichigo, and found the spark there in the orange-haired's brown eyes. He was fighting for the girl on the stage, but for what?

"Three-hundred million yen, Kurosaki-san," Aizen said, a smug look upon his face, "Care to go higher?"

Nnoitra grinned again, "Ah~ So we finally have a winner?" He raised his gavel as the men grasped onto the redhead's bound wrists, yanking her upward.

Briefly, Ichigo locked eyes with her once more, but it was enough to strengthen his resolve. As she stumbled weakly to the edge of the stage, and Aizen's smirk widened, Ichigo yelled.

"Eight-hundred million yen!"

There was a pause. Nnoitra's gavel was still in the air. His eyes bugged as they fell on Ichigo, who was staring at Aizen with clear defiance etched onto his face. The men tugging Orihime jerked to a stop, and glanced at Nnoitra, as though to ask what to do next.

"Is that enough?" Ichigo asked, his voice low.

And the gavel banged against the wood.

**…**

**…**

With a soft, impish smile, Aizen closed his eyes, "Congratulations, Kurosaki-san."

"Aizen-sama?" Gin questioned, quirking up his eyebrows.

With a sweep of his expensive tailcoat, Aizen turned, "Let us be on our way, Gin."

"Yes, sir."

**…**

**…**

_What the hell was I thinking?_

Ichigo tightened his grip around the coffee cup in front of him. Sure, it wasn't a lot of money and it really wouldn't damage anything in his life, but still. He'd been stupid enough to be drawn into that game. He looked up at the clock – three in the morning. Just great.

When it was all done and finish, Rukia had yelled at him, furious, as Renji looked torn between giving him a thumbs-up and then berating him. Ichigo sighed heavily – his friends were idiots. But he was an even bigger one, plus an asshole. He'd bought the girl, he couldn't believe himself. And when he took her to his home, placed her in the bed, he'd nearly had a heart attack. She was unconscious when he received her and clothed in nothing more than a sheet.

He wanted to kick someone's ass – his more than anyone's. The entire situation was shit. Burying his head in his hands, he tried to think correctly. There was a woman in his bed, not the first one, but _fuck_, she was a stranger. Nnoitra had congratulated him with a leer, calling her 'his property', and almost got punched in the shit. He could let the girl go once she woke up, maybe give her some money, and call her a taxi so she could get home.

But it still wouldn't do anything for his guilt. He was such a perverted, stubborn bastard. He should've felt smug – that's what Renji had said – for he'd won, beat Aizen, and gotten a prize. A _disgusting_ prize…

He _knew_ the girl. Her brother, Sora, had died in Kurosaki Clinic. There had been bullet holes in his body, and two bullets stuck in a lung, and another right under his heart. There was nothing Ichigo or his father could do. And the girl – the girl's whose name he had never learned – cried in front of him, beautiful and broken. He couldn't have took himself to the funeral, he felt unwelcome.

Still, every day, she was on his mind. He wondered, all through the year, what she was up to, did she ever get over her brother's death, if she was healthy, how much pain she endured. He should know, his mother had kicked the can when he was much younger, but he couldn't fully understand her agony when he'd lost her when he was just a kid, unable to comprehend such emotions.

_You're an idiot. _He mumbled to himself internally, grimly. The clock ticked, and he stood, leaving his coffee. He supposed he could sleep on the couch, flick on the television, but he hesitated. The girl could be cold, fallen out of bed, or maybe hungry. He paused one step from the living room, and then turned and walked up the stairs. There were only three bedrooms in his home, designed specifically for his family and friends to stay, and the other rooms were the library, TV room for Renji and the others, and a few bathrooms. Ichigo crept through the dark hallway, and paused at his bedroom.

When he opened the door, there was a small light on. He'd almost forgotten he left it like that. Sighing, he walked towards the lamp, and turned the light down just a notch. And then he turned and looked at the girl in his bed.

She was small, swallowed up by the masses of dark blankets. She was also still, and he caught a sliver of pale skin, her arms spread on either side of her, and her hair a mass of red, gold, blonde, and brown. He walked a little closer, stopping on the edge, and gazed down at her face.

Her beauty was enough to make his stomach curl. Her cheeks looked soft, warm, and the long, thick eyelashes rested on her cheekbones. Her slender eyebrows pressed together, her forehead wrinkled a bit, her small nose as well. He didn't even realize his hand was reaching out to smooth out her furrowed brows. As the pad of his thumb pressed between her eyebrows, he let out an unsteady breath.

Her skin was very warm. Slowly, he trailed his finger down the bridge of her tiny nose, and paused an inch from her lips. They were plush, soft, and pink. A second later, her breath, warm and soft, blew out onto his skin.

_She was as bright as a star. Just as far away, too._

He nearly growled, yanking his hand away.

Great.

He was becoming a stalker. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he grinded his teeth together. Damn. That was it. He would give her all the money she needed, send her back home, and that was it, dammit.

She was not his property. She was a human being. And he was being _creepy_.

With that thought, he turned towards the door.

"…Hm?"

Ichigo froze, his muscles locking. Silently, he turned to look over his shoulder. He took a step closer to the bed, hesitated, and then took another and another, until he was hovering over the redheaded beauty once again. Her nose scrunched up again, and her long, thick eyelashes fluttered.

When the pale lids peeled back to reveal hazy honeyed eyes, Ichigo's breathing stopped. Her weary gaze met his a second later, and her entire body seemed to spring to life.

Ichigo was not prepared for what happened next.

**…**

**…**

**I'm such a little kid. I created a new story. My New Year resolution was supposed to be slow down, go to the gym, but since I'm only one-hundred pounds, I found no reason to. My mother said my resolution should be stopping crushing on Ichigo, Inuyasha, and many others, and get over Ichihime when it was never going to happen (her being a IchiRuki fan). Pfft…None of you can blame me for bursting into laughter in her face, right? **

**Hehe~ Me and my mom both obsess over who Ichigo is going to end up with. She calls Orihime a big-boobed bimbo and I have to hate on Rukia more than I would enjoy. Pfft, as if Ichigo would end up with that girl! She's for Renji. **

**Um, please review for me. This story won't be long, but sexy. I LOVE sexy stories!**

**…**

**…**

**Even though there is not solid Ichihime-ness in the anime or manga, one thing made me very upset about the Lust Arc. I had been reading around on the internet about Ichihime – because I obsess like that – and I stumbled across an article. First, it said something about the Lust Arc, my most favorite Arc by Kubo, but then, as I read more into it, it told me more about the fight between Ichigo and Ulquiorra.**

**I'm all for Ulquihime –shrugs- I like the couple, but I'm more in love with Ichihime than anything else. But as I continued on with the article (I don't remember where I found or how, or who it was by, but the person seemed very serious and experienced with such things, not like all the guys on tumblr) I saw some of the flaws the person saw. **

**Like, Ulquihime – though, we all wish for Ulquiorra to come back, forge some kind of bond with Orihime, we all know, deep in our hearts it's impossible. The person had said the relationship was a little forced, and I kind of agree, and not made to be looked at romatically. Again, I agree, because Ulquiorra didn't really know what being human, or having a heart was really about. Orihime told him. **

**Now, I do agree what she said about Ichigo and Orihime. During Ichigo's death, Orihime tried all to save him, and save herself and Ishida-kun, but while doing so, she was panicking, unable to grasp what was fully happening. Ichigo, on the other hand, was fully prepared to bounce back to life and save them both. **

**The person then described to me what Ichigo exactly said when rising back from the dead. Instead of saying "her" as many of us Ichihime fans have hoped, he really didn't say anything but "you". He met both Ishida and Orihime, which was a bit of a downer for me, but I was happy nonetheless. And, the writer then pointed out, how Ichigo became full hollow. In love, you're supposed to sacrifice something for the other, and the writer said Orihime was useless and did NOT sacrifice anything for Ichigo, like he did her. **

**The writer then called Orihime's love for Ichigo "just a crush", and that was the point I stopped reading. I know it was stupid to bring this up, and some of you might not even read this, I just felt like it was something for us all to talk about. What do you think? **

**…**

**…**

**Star**


	2. Chapter 2

**…**

**…**

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Freezing for a half-second, he watched as her mouth opened, as if to release a silent scream, but instead she thrashed. Her legs kicked, her arms flailed, and her entire body seemed to rebel against him or anyone else.

Ichigo's mouth had fallen open. Quickly, he placed his hands on her shoulders – so small under his palms – and tried to say something comforting. Nothing came to mind, nothing _good_ anyway, and she continued to flounder around. The bed creaked as he rested his knees onto the side where she was, bending over her now.

"Hey, calm down! Hey!"

_Shit_. He didn't even know her name. How fucked could he get?

At the sound of his voice, she began to use her nails. Short, blunt nails dug into his forearms, and then clawed their way up to his chest. Ichigo nearly growled and shoved her back into the bed. Her eyes shot open, desperate hazel meeting burning brown, and Ichigo faltered. She took that as her opening, launching her feet into his legs, and he staggered backward, almost narrowly hitting his head on the board of the bed.

She scampered from the sheets, but ended up tangled even more. He meant to hurry to grab her, but he was momentarily distracted by the waft of berries, vanilla, and something else sweet and he paused.

And that was when she gracelessly landed right on her face.

He sat up, shocked and watched as she slowly pressed her hands against the hardwood floor. She sat up, and her small shoulders hunched inwards. Ichigo blinked and then he heard her soft intake of breath. Carefully, he pushed himself off the bed and walked towards her. Her small shoulders were hunched inwards, as though to protect herself.

"H-Hey." He cleared his throat a bit. She started, but did not turn to face him. With a sigh, he stepped a bit closer. He had almost failed to notice her state of dress. The navy sheets in his bed had fallen away from her, and now creamy, supple skin was exposed. Her legs were tucked under her and he was able to see her toes tucked her bottom – her very _nice_ bottom. Her hair fell down in golden, auburn, and fiery locks, and he hungrily searched for any skin that would be exposed.

Frantically, he shook his head. He was losing himself again. He almost wished he could bonk himself on top the head, just to give him some common sense. Dammit. Licking his lips nervously, he watched the girl's shoulders shake a bit, and she let out a little squeak, bowing her head.

Shit. Was she crying? He opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed she beat him to it.

"P-Please…" His throat felt clogged up all of the sudden, "_Please_."

He paused in his mid-step. His stomach was doing those weird flip-flops again. He swallowed, but it felt like glass being forced down his throat. He hadn't heard her voice in over a year, hadn't heard those words spoken from her. Silently, he walked towards her, ignoring the way she cringed at every step.

"I'm not…" He trailed off, an inch away from her. "I'm not going to hurt you." He could feel her warmth and it made his stomach twist and turn. He could hear her little, ragged breaths, and her shoulders shook a bit. He could also hear the pitter-patter of her small tears hitting his floors.

Ichigo was never good with tears. They were messy and held a long story behind them. Whenever Yuzu cried – which was often – he never knew what to do. She would latch her small body onto him, ruin his favorite shirts, and blubber out words that he could not understand. Finally, it would be Karin yelling at her and his father dancing around like a fool. That usually resolved the issues in his home.

But her tears were different. Somehow, her tears made him feel _different_. Quickly, they made him make a move. He grabbed up the sheet and draped it over her shoulders. She gasped sharply, but didn't move away when he crouched beside her, keeping his eyes from anywhere inappropriate.

He didn't need to say anything, because her chin lifted and her wet face looked upwards towards him.

Again, her beauty startled him. He'd seen pretty girls before – his mother, Rukia (she could if she wanted to be), and others, exes he'd never been able to look at completely because of _her_, this girl in front of him. No one could compare to her.

Her cheeks were a deep, pretty pink, and so was her small nose. Her eyes were large, beautifully teary on her face, and her hair fell naturally, framing her face. Her face was wet with thick tears, dripping from her chin, and heavy on her thick lashes. His hand lifted, prepared to wipe away the tears, but he crunched his fists tightly.

_Idiot_.

She was a shaking, naked, beautiful stranger. He could tell by the way she looked at him, she had no idea who he was and why he was there. His scowl deepened, eyebrows furrowing. That upset him – her not knowing him and all. Sighing, he shook his head and looked back at her. She was now on her knees, hands clutching tightly at the sheets to cover herself, and crawled slowly towards the door.

His eyes narrowed, "The hell do you think you're doing?"

There was a squeak from her. Ichigo watched as she nearly toppled over before quickly repositioning herself.

"I'm not stupid," he muttered. "And you won't get far." She tensed. Damn. He sounded creepy again. And what came out of his mouth sounded like something Aizen would say. He huffed irritably. All this bullshit was getting to him. "Look, I don't know what's really going on here. But…"

He stood and walked towards her. She clutched the sheet desperately to her naked skin. "I'm not _them_." Her muscles locked tighter, "I'm not _them_." He repeated vehemently. Somehow, she knew what he meant, because her eyes shifted and gazed into his with such fear and sadness, his heart did a weird flip.

_Shit_.

**…**

**…**

_Ding dong. _

What the hell?

_Ding dong. _

Ichigo's eyes creaked open and then blinked rapidly. It was way too early for him to be doing _anything_. Sunlight beamed down into his eyes, blinding him for a few seconds. He groaned wearily, rolling over, and soon found himself on the cool rug.

_Ding dong. _

"Fuuuck," Ichigo hissed. His head was pounding and he didn't know why. With another groan, he sat up and ran his hand through his tousled locks. He finally figured out where that stupid-ass noise was coming from. He made it to his feet with a deep scowl.

_Ding dong. _

He stalked towards the door and heard the pounding of fists and feet against it.

"…open this fuckin' door or I'm tearin' it down! Ya damn orange-headed asshat—"

Wrenching the door out of the way, he glared at the three in front of him. There stood Renji and Grimmjow, along with Uryu. For a while now, he'd been friends with Grimmjow, who'd he failed to see at the 'auction' last night. Even though the two never seemed to get along, Grimmjow was a friend he could count on and trust. Uryu was a different story. He'd been the man to help him get into writing – his college roommate who'd never really liked him, but always helped out when he was in trouble. Ichigo did not even want to know why Renji brought either of them.

Dragging his hand down his face, he grounded out, "What the hell do you want?"

"SHHHH!" Renji hissed, glancing around frantically, "We're probably being followed!"

Ichigo arched a brow as Grimmjow's eye twitched, "By who?"

"Rukia, of course!" Renji said, "She's still pretty angry from last night. I don't want her anywhere near here." Quickly, he brushed past Ichigo, Ishida following behind him, and Grimmjow simply glared at the orange-haired.

"Got a problem?" Ichigo questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah," said Grimmjow with a grimace, "Nel's fuckin' pissed at me."

Ichigo only stared at him.

"Shaddup!" Grimmjow roared furiously, even though Ichigo hadn't said anything, "She's fuckin' mad at me because of _your_ punk-ass! She thinks it's my fault that I left you there at the fuckin' auction to buy some bitch! I didn't even _see_ your ass! How in the hell was I supposed to know you were a perverted little fucker?!"

Ichigo's jaw locked, "The fuck? How in the hell does Nel know?!"

Grimmjow glowered at him, "_Everyone_ fuckin' knows, you idiot! She didn't even let me fuck her!"

_"I don't care!" _

"SHHHH!" Renji shushed again, too loudly. Ichigo and Grimmjow glared at him menacingly. "Have some sense, would you?" He glanced at Ichigo, "She's asleep, isn't she?" When Ichigo blinked, surprised, Renji shook his head, "Hopeless. She's upstairs asleep so shut it."

Grimmjow continued to sulk, "Fuck that. Why'd you do it? You went up against Aizen! Are you fuckin' _crazy_?!"

"So you've been to one of those before?" Ichigo inquired dryly, "I should've known. How fucked up can you people get?"

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Don't compare to those assholes. If I wanted pussy, I'd call Nel. I've never bought or sold anything to that bitch Nnoitra, and I never will," He turned his glare on Renji, "I don't even know why you'd do that shit. Bringing this Berry-Boy to a place like that."

Renji spluttered uselessly for a few seconds before he growled out, "How in the hell was I supposed to know?! Shinji's the one who sent out an invite!"

"AND YOU LISTENED TO HIM?!"

"YES!"

"YOU'RE A FUCKIN' IDIOT!"

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?!"

"You want to know what I think?" Uryu asked, adjusting his glasses. Ichigo glared at him.

"No." All three men answered simultaneously.

Uryu spoke anyway, "I think you're all acting like children. We've already addressed the fact that there was an auction of women, that Nnoitra Gilga was hosting it, and Ichigo purchased a woman—"

"And I didn't get any pussy!"

"But," Ishida blatantly ignored the blue-haired, "we need to focus on the matter at hand. Right now, there is a woman upstairs, frightened and alone, and will probably panic as soon as she awakens. We need to discuss a few things before she does." One reason why Ichigo liked Uryu – he always had his head screwed on straight. It was enough to hold everyone above water before they drowned at least.

Grimmjow simmered down a bit and Renji plopped down lazily in a dining room seat.

Ichigo ran his hands through his hair, "Shit…" He looked at Grimmjow, "You said everyone knows. Who exactly?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, holding up his phone, which was vibrating, "Have you checked your phone lately? Rangiku is already fussing up a storm, Nemu is furious, and Keigo is asking for pictures."

Ichigo groaned, lolling his head back, "And Tatsuki?"

Renji winced, "She almost ripped out my throat. I think Rukia told her, and it's not long before news hits your family."

Ichigo was ready to rip out his hair, "What is with this town?! It gets all around, but the police have no idea?"

Renji shrugged, "I've tried the cops. They checked the place out and it was clean. Fuck it, alright?" He muttered. Glancing at the stairs, his frown deepened, "What about her? Is she okay?"

Ichigo huffed and dropped his arms to his sides, "She attacked me last night." Ichigo thought he heard Grimmjow say something like, 'you lucky bastard', but he ignored it.

Ishida raised an eyebrow, "Did she now?"

"I guess she thought I was someone else, but she caught me off guard. She fell on her face though," He almost snorted at the memory before he sobered, "And she cried…a lot." Grimmjow arched a brow at the man's expression, "And she looked really sad."

Ishida shrugged, pulling out a few documents from God knows where, "She should be." He slid them across the dining room table to Ichigo, "Her name is Inoue Orihime." Ichigo carefully took the manila folder, her curious furrow in his brows, "Age nineteen, 5'2, and one-hundred-eight pounds. Her blood type is B."

Grimmjow's eyebrows went high up on his forehead and Renji gaped at him, "What the hell, dude?"

Ishida shrugged, pushing his glasses further up his narrow nose, "I do my research. After Rukia told me about what happened, I looked her up." He met Ichigo's gaze, "And her files were pretty well hidden. I had to hack into Aizen's database just to get to them."

Ichigo's frown deepened, "Why would Aizen have her records?"

Ishida's eyes narrowed into slits, "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

It was silent for a moment. Finally, Renji asked, "One question," His voice was oddly serious so it made all eyes go to him. To Ichigo's annoyance, he grinned wolfishly, "Did'ya give her any clothes yet?"

A chair sailed through the air and hit Renji square in the face. Grimmjow leered and Uryu averted his gaze. Ichigo glared fiercely as Renji scrambled to stand, cradling his broken nose.

"You bastard! What was that for?!"

"DON'T ASK STUPID QUESTIONS!"

**…**

**…**

Sighing heavily, Ichigo leaned back into his couch. He'd just gotten off the phone with his furious editor Nemu. Apparently, Rangiku – his overwhelming assistant – had called her, explaining Ichigo was now a "sugar daddy" and wasn't going to be in work for a few days. This pissed Ichigo off, but it was a good cover story. It seemed the rumors hadn't been very clear – he'd just gotten a new girl to hang off of, that was all. At least, that was what others thought.

He was glad he hadn't seen Rukia. She would throw a fit if she knew what was happening.

Everything was bullshit, he thought venomously. At least the crap wasn't on the news, and Ichigo knew Nnoitra would never allow it to go that far. He could practically imagine his large, leering grin. It made his fists clench.

_Drip. Drop. Drip. _

Great. It was raining. Just like that day.

Shaking his head from the thought, he sat up. She was still asleep. He supposed he could check on her. No. She would probably try to attack him again. And maybe still naked. But maybe he could make her something to eat. Something light, rice or eggs. He wondered what she liked.

_Drip. Drop. Drip. _

The water was splaying down his long, wide windows in clear ribbons. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and watched the rain shower down to the earth.

_Bump_.

Instantly, Ichigo's dark eyes flickered upwards. The sound had come from somewhere towards his right, maybe upstairs. His muscles tensed for a second. Was she awake? Or was he hearing things?

Frowning lightly, he listened again.

_Creak. _

His head snapped to the side. There she was, clutching his dark sheet to her body. He was up before he knew. Their eyes locked for a moment and then she was gone, a wave of amber hair flying behind her.

She was heading towards the door.

With a low growl, his muscles bunched violently. Cutting through the kitchen, he cut her off before she could even register where she was going. He must've been faster than she thought he would be, because a startled squeal erupted from her throat, and she scrambled backwards before scurrying around the corner. His aggravation rose and he was quick to jerk back around, back towards the living room, just in time to watch her stumble towards the door. He acted before he thought and suddenly, he was latching his arms around her slim waist and hauling her to him.

She gave a small grunt before flailing her arms, kicking her legs desperately. Quickly, he locked his arms around her tightly. When she finally simmered down, he realized their intimate position – her breasts were heavy against his arms, and her bottom pressed directly into his hips. With the thin sheet, it didn't leave much to the imagination. He sighed, attempting to push down the uncontrollable heat in his cheeks before he spoke. When he did, his voice was deeper.

"What do you think you're doing?" He grounded out.

The girl winced at his voice, but didn't speak.

He sighed. If he breathed in, he could smell the creaminess of her skin, the berries and sweet scent of woman. He felt his eyebrow twitched. He was such an idiot. Carefully, he maneuvered himself so he wasn't pressed so tightly against her. Placing her on the couch, he tucked his hands safely in his pockets – maybe she would feel better if he stayed back.

"Look, Inoue—"

She jerked, startled and turned to look at him. She swallowed, her eyes large and watery, "H-How do you know my name?" Her voice was light, and too thin.

He averted his gaze, "You thirsty?" She didn't reply, but looked at her lap. His frown deepened, "Stay here." He turned towards the kitchen. It didn't take long from him to emerge back into the room, a glass full of water.

She stared at the water with clear trepidation. Ichigo sighed, "I didn't poison it or anything," He pushed it towards her, "Drink."

Her small, shaking hands took a hold of the glass. Their hands brushed, only for a second, but he felt the shock of heat. Quickly, she brought the cool rim to her lips and swallowed. It wasn't long until she was gulping down the water with such gusto, he thought she would choke. When it was empty, she hesitated before holding it out to him.

He refilled it and she drank that down just as fast. He didn't want to sit next to her, didn't want to spook her, so he placed his hands on the back of the couch, and leaned against it. "Um," he cleared his throat and she looked up at him with her bright eyes, "aren't you cold?"

She tensed and bunched the material of her sheets against her chest, "I-I'm fine." He grimaced deeply, but didn't put up a protest. He would put her in some clothes later. "But…" she licked her plush lips, "But…"

He gazed down at her, "What?"

She didn't say anything, and couldn't help but stare at her. She appeared so tiny, heavy red hair falling around her, her large eyes shaking with unshed tears. He felt the sudden need to touch her, to make sure she was there, to keep her from falling apart.

"You…You were at _that place_…" She whispered, her eyes sparkling.

Ichigo's eyes tightened. _The auction_, he realized. "I already told you. Those people and me are _nothing_ alike."

Her shoulders hunched inwards, as if to protect herself. She squeezed her hazel eyes shut, "I-I thought that man would take me away." He knew who she meant. Aizen. Locking his jaw, he watched her, "B-But then you came and…" Her delicate neck moved as she swallowed, "_Thank you_."

He blinked, "Inoue—"

"Thank you," her tears came again, thick and fast, "Thank you so much."

She cupped her hands over her eyes and wept silently. Ichigo glared at nothing in particular. He felt the overwhelming urge to touch her, wipe away her tears, but he retucked his hands in his pockets, keeping quiet.

"It's Kurosaki Ichigo," he grumbled.

Orihime glanced up, her face wet, her forehead crumbled helplessly.

"My name. Kurosaki Ichigo. And I won't hurt you."

She was silent, and he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to push down the heavy feeling in his chest.

"C'mon," he said, "Let's get you some clothes."

It wasn't much. But it was a good start.

**…**

**…**

**Yay! I'm done with yet another chapter. I need to start on Hidden Screams, btw. –sigh- Now I can actually start on their relationship in both stories, this one and Hidden Screams. **

**I was really shocked when all of you responded to my discussion prompt. I didn't know you guys were as passionate about it like me. Haha~! It was nice to read all of them. Maybe in the next chapter, I'll find something else we can discuss and see what you all think. **

**And who else loves Grimmjow in this? And suspicious about Aizen? Too much to deal with, I swear!**

**Please review. Love your opinions and ideas. **

**-Star**


	3. Chapter 3

**…**

**…**

_"I can't believe you! I really can't! I-I mean, this is the lowest of the low and all the paperwork—"_

Ichigo flinched away from the phone. "God dammit, Nanao, _shut up_!"

She paused for a moment. The next second, he could literally _feel_ her _wrath_ through the phone. The icy flames licked against his skin in terrifying waves. He shuddered when he heard her inhuman growl, _"What did you just say to me? Huh? I'm your editor! I got you where you are today and I can knock you back down, Kurosaki-_san_! Don't mess with me!"_

Damn. When Nanao pulled the "san" card, he knew she was _pissed_. He frowned deeply, running a hand through his already messy hair, "Look, Nanao—"

_"What's your excuse?! Rangiku-san called me just Tuesday and told me everything! How are you going to be, as she said it, a "sugar daddy"? You're not a father! Have you slept with this woman? What if this gets on the tabloids? Then what, Ichigo?" _

He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued on.

_"It's me saving your hide again! And let's not forget you're fourth book isn't even out and people are going mad, mad I say! You're behind on work and you decide to hook up with some low-life, paid-off—"_

"_Don't_ talk about her like that," His tone was low, hard. And she paused in mid-rant. Good. Now he had her attention. "I don't know what you heard, but it's nothing like that."

She gave an impatient huff and he could hear paper being wrestled down in the background. _"Then what is it like?"_

"Nothing that you need to worry about," He replied simply. He knew if he told Nanao anything that happened that night, she would blow a fuse. She would _literally_ explode and take his office down with her. "It's not really important either," He continued to lie. He tried to conjure up a good enough story, "I-I…just met a girl."

On the other line, all breathing stopped. _"Met…a girl?"_

He winced at her tone and then nodded, even though she couldn't see him, "Yeah."

It was silent. One heartbeat passed, two, three, and then—

_"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!" _

His right eardrum exploded. "Dammit, Nanao, give a guy a warning!"

_"Never mind that! What is all this? One minute you're buried in work, the next you're fawning over some girl?! Are you intoxicated? Feverish? Do I need to head over there?" _He could already imagine her standing behind her desk, clutching the phone to her ear.

"No!" She paused from her rambling. "No…"

_"Ichigo,"_ She seemed calmer now. He huffed. She was like a parent. _"…Please, I'm worried." _

"Yeah?" He gave a small grin, "So am I."

There was a sigh, another shuffle of paper, and her chair squeaked. She never got rid of that rolling-chair, no matter how many times it fell apart or made too much noise when she moved in it. She claimed it was the first chair she ever got to sit in when she made it into editing. She wasn't giving it up for the world. She had determination and wits, and he liked that about her.

_"When are you coming back to work?" _

Well, at least she wasn't angry anymore. It was a start. "Um, I don't know. Probably around Friday. There're a few things I have to take care of."

_"You can't be serious." _

"I'm serious, Nanao."

She sighed irritably, _"Well, if you're not here by Friday with manuscripts and an excuse, I'm coming over and flushing you down the toilet, got it?" _

He managed a deadpanned expression, "Stop talking to Rukia. It's beginning to rub off." He heard her open her mouth to yell something at him, but he hung up before she could. Releasing the End button, he sighed heavily, placing the phone in his back pocket.

Two days.

It had been two days since the entire…_thing_.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what to call _it_. Inoue Orihime had been at his home for the last two days. He wasn't sure what to call the feeling in his chest either. It was all so frustrating. She didn't remember him – something he wasn't entirely fine with – and she kept to herself most of the time. She reminded him oddly of a rabbit, small and white, with large eyes, and delicate, easily startled. That meant he had to treat her with the utmost care.

His friends had been another problem. His phone was constantly being called, so he ended up turning it off. When he turned the device back on just an hour ago, Nanao had called him. He had no other choice than to answer. When he'd hung up, he blatantly ignored the forty-seven missed calls and one-hundred-nine text messages. Honestly, when would those idiots take a hint?

He was also surprised Tatsuki and Rukia hadn't attacked him yet. Maybe they were generating a plan together. He wouldn't be too shocked if they were. The two women would be his ultimate demise. He could just imagine their eerie, horrifying grins as they would attack him, rip him limb from limb, and demand an answer.

He almost groaned. He was becoming stressed. As he climbed his steps, he made sure there were no other sounds in the hallway. He didn't want to chance running into Orihime. That would fuck with him all night. Again, he thought, she was like a rabbit. She needed to be treated with care. And if he stepped over the carefully placed boundaries between them, it would shatter his lock on little self-control he had.

_She is too tempting for her own good_, he thought to himself, opening the door to his study. It was big enough to really be called a miniature library, with all the books he had opened and closed before storing them into the bookshelves. He had read so many he had lost count and decided to mark off a book with a red stamp each time he finished it. Sometimes, he found himself reading more books than one at a time. His father had once said that his mother used to do that, and that made Ichigo like reading all the more. Whatever kept his mind occupied.

He was intending to finish that book on the world's theories, when he stopped at the threshold. He could smell her before he could see her. Vanilla and berries and sunshine. He memorized that sent right down to the last detail. He could no longer think he was being a creep – he already knew that and accepted it. He tried not to go over to the dark-side and become a pervert too, but he was losing the battle rather quickly.

She was standing in front of a bookshelf. Her long, voluptuous bare legs were exposed. Since he did not have many clothes that could fit her, she was on a tight budget with them. At some point, he would have to purchase her own – she didn't even have any fucking _underwear_. She was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and his black boxers. Long, sunset waves fell down her back naturally, and had him captivated. He knew he shouldn't react this way towards her, but it was already too late.

_Pervert_, a voice said in his head. He wanted to choke it. He already knew he was one, so why rub it into his face? He didn't touch her, did he? He didn't ogle her, did he? He didn't smother her, did he? And, of course, he didn't shake her and demand to know why her head was on backwards…_did he_?

"Hey."

"Eep!" Instantly, the book in her hands clattered onto the floor. Her knees pressed together slightly and she trembled a bit. See? Rabbit. He thought she would have a heart attack from just his voice.

He took a step into the room, "Didn't mean to scare you." He tucked his hands in a safe place: his pockets.

She was still for a second, but her shaking stopped. She turned her head, wide hazel eyes catching his. Again, he was mesmerized by her beauty. Nothing could compare. Was this the reason why he dumped all the other girls in the past year? Yeah. He supposed it was, since his dreams were haunted with long, fiery auburn hair and blood on her frail body.

God. He was becoming pathetic. Sometimes, he couldn't believe how he ended up in this situation in the first place. There was no doubt he was attracted to the girl, but that didn't mean he had to prowl behind her like some stalker. He was better than that, but somehow, with just simple brushes of the skin and eye-contact, he'd become addicted.

Pathetic.

She sprung back to life so suddenly, it startled him. "A-Ah! I'm sorry!" She whirled around to face him, and he tried to keep his eyes from anywhere dangerous, which was everything – her breasts, eyes, and his favorite two parts, her legs and hair. "A-Am I intruding?"

He blinked, bringing himself from his stupor. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, "No. It's fine."

There was a long pause, and not to mention, tense. He shoved a hand through his hair, and then jammed both into his pockets.

"W-Well, I guess I should get to bed, ne?" She completely forgot about the book on the floor, and took a step towards Ichigo, towards the door. "…goodnight, K-Kurosaki-s—"

"What were you reading?" He asked quietly. She paused in mid-step, her eyes meeting his again. Her pretty eyes blinked at him and then she glanced back at the book at her feet.

"N…Nothing important." She murmured softly, looking back towards him. She licked her lips almost nervously, and he watched the act intently. Her cheeks were blooming a natural pink color and he wanted to touch her just see if they were as warm and soft as he thought they would be.

_Shit. _

He was pretty sure he wasn't the only one feeling this…_thing_ between them. Or maybe he was just delusional from the little sleep he'd been getting the last few days – sleeping on the couch was _hard_. But still, wasn't it a little too soon, a little too quick, to be thinking this way?

"Oh." He studied the book a bit closer, "It's mine."

She flushed an even deeper rose. "S-Sorry."

He knew he shouldn't, but he did. He was a few inches away from her a second later. She was much smaller than him, and it bothered him, like one wrong move would break her. He looked away from her eyes and held his breath as he stooped down and grabbed up his book. To his surprise, it was the first one, his _crappiest_ one, but everyone bought it like it was candy.

He stood straight. She was watching him with her pretty eyes, long, thick lashes, and an earnest yet nervous look on her face. "I didn't finish it," She said softly, "B-But it was very good."

He arched a brow, "Really? You like it?"

To his surprise, she leaned towards him, balling her small fists with a look of fierce determination crossing her features, "Yes! Very much. You are a talented writer, Kurosaki-san."

He stared at her for a long moment. He had to remember to breathe, but she was so near, he ended up inhaling her scent. He huffed softly and spoke, but his tongue felt heavy, "Thanks, I guess."

She seemed to remember who she was and who he was, because she blushed again and leaned back quickly, "You're welcome!" She squeaked too quickly, her eyes larger than usual.

Silence again.

He opened his mouth to ask a simple question – if she was hungry, tired, _anything_, but she beat him to it. "I-I like Kyoko-san."

Ichigo's frown deepened. The leading female protagonist. He should've known she would like her – she was the main character and it was a love story. The way he portrayed her, though, annoyed him. Kyoko reminded him a lot of his past girlfriends with her erratic temper, brutal persistence, and devilish tongue.

"You do?"

"Un!" She nodded, practically glowing, "Kyoko-san is so brave and she always keeps her head up, even when Isao first left her, b-but he was doing it for her own good, right?" He glanced down at her, startled. She was staring up at him again, eyes fierce, "Right? He still loves her, doesn't he? He's just going after Masa, the man who killed his sister, right? He would never intentionally hurt Kyoko-san."

Ichigo's eyebrows rose. He'd never heard her talk so much. It was enticing, somehow. He wanted to know what she was thinking, how she felt, and he wished to hear her talking to him, with him.

"…Yeah." He muttered beneath his breath as she gazed up at him with her large, beautiful eyes.

"I'll just read the next book," She continued, and her eyes shined. She turned towards the bookcase, her back to him, and her hair long and luscious on her back. She bent a bit, her bottom out, and grabbed the second novel, "This one, ne? I can't wait." She turned back to face him, her cheeks pink, her eyes large, and her hair framing her pretty face.

_Talk more_, he wanted to say. _Tell me more._

But she did something even better. He should've seen it coming before, but he did not. For he'd _never_ seen anything like it. She was smiling at him, a beam that made her even more radiant, even more beautiful than before, which he didn't even think was possible. He couldn't look away even if he tried, and he couldn't stop himself from touching her.

When Orihime felt a brush of heat on her cheek, she opened her eyes. He was close, closer than he would usually allow himself to be. Before she could even gasp, he brushed his fingers against the shell of her ear – she felt a shiver course down her spine with a bolt of heat – and tucked a thick lock of hair back.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers, a soft honey meeting a scorching brown. It was still for a second – a sweet, perfect second – and then it was shattered.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _

Orihime inhaled sharply – she had stopped breathing.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Slowly, as if to not frighten her away, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the phone. He refused to take his eyes off hers as he answered without checking the number, "Yeah?"

Orihime's cheek continued to tingle sharply, and her heart was hammering against her ribs. She took a quick step back and Ichigo's free hand remained in the air, right where she had been, until he stuffed it into his pocket. He looked away from her, replying to the person on the other line, his voice deeper than usual.

Timidly, she peered up at him from beneath her lashes. He did not look happy.

"Look, Renji—"

"I-I…" Ichigo looked down at the redhead. She was pink in the face, and her eyes were shimmering faintly. He wanted to see her smile, just like before, and dammit, in just in a second, she was even farther away. "I should go to bed!" She squeaked out. She dropped his novel from her hand, and nearly scurried from the room.

He cursed.

_"Ichigo, hey, Ichigo! You listening?"_ Renji inquired on the other line.

"…Yeah."

**…**

**…**

_Ding. Dong. _

Ichigo groaned softly, pressing his hand against his eyes. Once again, he had been woken up right in the middle of a good sleep. He sat up, probably too fast because his head began to thump. Yeesh, he wasn't a morning person at all.

_Ding. Dong. _

It took him a long second to realize Orihime wasn't with him. Instead, he was in his living room, spread out wildly over the couch, and sunlight streaming through his blinds. He swallowed, his mouth dry, and his skin felt clammy. With a huff, he stood, and walked towards the door.

_Ding. Dong. _

He cursed. He pried the door open roughly, prepared to yell at whoever, but unfortunately, he paused when he saw the strawberry wavy locks, bright blue eyes, and hourglass figure. His eyebrow twitched.

_Shit_. His assistant, Mastumoto Rangiku.

"Ichigo-kuuun~!" Suddenly, she launched up – her large breasts bouncing up and down – and latched onto him, her arms around his neck. Her soft, pink cheek pressed against his firmly, and he could smell her strong perfume. His scowl deepened. Sometimes he wondered why he even hired her, "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Get off me, woman!" Ichigo nearly snarled. He unclasped her arms and held her at arms' length. She pouted, but did not put up a tantrum. "What do you want?"

"Ichi-kun!" She whined loudly, and a vein pounded in his temple, "I've been worried about you and this is how you treat me?" She pursed her lips, fake blue tears falling from her chibi'd face, "You're so mean to me~!"

"Shut up," He said, and she huffed. Suddenly, a light bulb appeared over her pretty little head.

When a sly grin lit up her face, his frown deepened, "What're you—"

"Oh!" She pointed a finger over his shoulder, smile widening until she looked like a Cheshire cat. And then she tilted her head to the side, blue eyes sparkling on her perfect face, "Where'd you get _that_?"

Just in time, he looked over his shoulder to see the young woman. He had noticed over the past few days of living with her that she was not a morning person, and much worse than him. She could barely see or speak when she was moving about in the sunlight, and it usually took him handing her some food to wake her. He was quite surprised to see her up so early. He watched as the redhead slowly dragged her feet along the wood, her arms limp by her sides, and she blinked her wide eyes wearily.

"Oi, Inoue," he called to her. Orihime jerked, startled. That seemed to wake her up a bit. Timidly, she glanced over at the threshold where Ichigo was standing. When their eyes met, he scowled again, "You alright? Hungry?"

She blinked rapidly before shaking her head, "N-No!" She exclaimed, a little too loudly, and Ichigo arched a brow, "I-I mean…" Finally, her eyes met Rangiku's for a moment, and her lips parted, "Um…"

Ichigo glanced over at Rangiku and bristled at the sight. His assistant was leering at the girl, eyes glinting with a predatory gaze, and her lips parted in a welcoming smile. She slid her eyes to Ichigo's, and he furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Hey, don't do anything stu—"

Too late.

"_Ohmigod_!" The blonde exclaimed, too loudly, "So it's true! You _are_ a sugar daddy~! Oh, this is just too good! Pictures, pictures! I need pictures! How could you get something like _that_, huh, huh?" She asked exuberantly, her voice higher than usual, and dug into her purse for her digital camera.

Ichigo's eyebrows twitched violently while his veins seemed to pump with fire, "Eh?! What the hell is your problem? She isn't an object!"

She beamed, "Oh, really?" she looked back at Orihime, who was watching the exchange with wide, anxious eyes, "What's your name?"

Ichigo managed a deadpan expression, "Don't tell her your na—"

"Shut up, Ichigo!" Rangiku fussed at him, and then looked at the redhead expectantly.

The younger girl swallowed, "…I-Inoue Orihime."

"SO CUTE~!" Rangiku squealed piercingly.

"Stop talking nonsense, dammit!" Ichigo raged.

Without warning, Rangiku dropped her purse and lunged. Ichigo cursed. He meant to catch her, but the locks of honey were soon gone from his gaze before he could even blink. There was a high-pitch, muffled squeal from behind him, and he hurried to whirl around, just in time to see Rangiku fasten herself onto Orihime, and mash the girl's face into her breasts.

Ichigo cursed again, prepared to rip out his hair. He was quick to move, but dodged all attacks. Orihime was flailing, panicking wildly, and Rangiku was yelling sweet endearing words at the redhead.

"Hey! You're gonna kill her!" Ichigo yelled when he saw Orihime's face between his assistant's bountiful chest, smothering the poor girl. Hurriedly, he grabbed Orihime's small shoulders, and pulled her away, hauling her to him. He turned the girl in his arm, holding the other out to fend off Rangiku, and stared down at her.

The redhead was flushed a deep pink, and her eyes were larger than usual, moist. She was trembling again. Ichigo curled his arm even tighter around her before jabbing an angry finger at Rangiku.

"WHAT IS YOUR _PROBLEM_?!"

Rangiku blinked and then smiled, "Sorry. She's just too cute for words."

His eyes narrowed, "That's no excuse. Keep your damn hands to yourself." He muttered and Rangiku pouted at his tone. He glanced down at Orihime, she had stopped trembling, "Oi. Are you okay?"

She looked up at him shyly, "I-I'm just fine."

He arched a brow, but staring down at her intently, "You sure?"

"Yes! Very." She nodded vehemently. He dropped his arm, for he did not want her to be uncomfortable, but stayed close. There was no telling what Rangiku would do if she saw an opening.

The blonde watched the two keenly, darting her sparkling eyes between them. "Hmmm?" She smiled softly, "What's this, Ichigo-kun? You're pretty protective, ne?"

Ichigo only narrowed his eyes in reply, crossing his arms over his chest. He stood in front of Orihime. "What do you want, Rangiku? Shouldn't you be at work?"

She arched a perfect brow, "Shouldn't you?"

He didn't reply.

"Well," she pursed her cherry lips, "It's not like it matters." She peeked at Orihime one more time, "I was just wondering when you would be back."

Ichigo shifted slightly on his feet. He could practically feel Orihime's curiosity digging into his back, "Not sure."

"Really?" The assistant inquired, hands on hips, "That's not what I heard from Nanao-chan. She said something like," She ran a hand through her wavy locks, "Friday?"

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched. There was no _fucking_ way he was leaving her home alone, _no way. _

"It's probably best to be around that time," Rangiku continued, and Ichigo glared at her, "After all, Aizen is demanding a meeting right away with you~"

Ichigo tensed.

Rangiku moved when Ichigo froze, and hurled towards Orihime. The redhead squealed in shock, but unlike last time, Ichigo was too lost in thought to save her. The two curvy women collapsed to the ground, in a swirl of thick hair, muffled squeaks, and spinning in circles on the floor, rolling round and round.

"Ooooh~ Look at that silky skin! I'm gonna suck on it, Cutie-chan!"

Orihime panicked, "Noooo~!"

Ichigo stood still in the threshold, the two women rolling from kitchen to living room. His frown was deep, yet thoughtful. All of a sudden Aizen wanted to meet? Still, he could remember that sly look on that bastard's face when Ichigo had purchased Orihime before leaving. It made his fists clenched.

If that bastard wanted to meet up, _fine_. He'd talk to him, but he was pretty sure his fists would do the most part.

"Silky skin, silky skin~!"

"No, no, noooo~!"

**…**

**...**

**-pokes head from behind laptop-**

**Heeey, guys~! **

**-dodges dump-truck thrown-**

**Okay, okay, I get it. I've been gone for some time. Sorry. I've been so busy with the yearbook and the new play my school is doing for Black History Month, and I'm sooo tired, but I managed to sit down with my computer one day and write. I started on this chapter yesterday, and then finished it tonight. I hope it wasn't a disappointment, since I'm attempting to explain the story first and then start on the Ichihime-ness in the next chapter and allow her to meet everyone. I LOVE Ichigo and Orihime in this story, their interactions and personalities!**

**Well, anyways, I swear, in the next week, I am updating Hidden Screams. I only have like three-hundred words, so it's a bit tricky, but I'm working on it. And then Everything in Between will be updated next, so no worries. I hope you can be patient enough with me, since I am such a lazy girl and too busy for my own good. I thought it would be pretty easy being a senior, but it sucks. **

**Whatever. **

**Anyways, sorry to all the people who were waiting for me to update. Some of you PMed me because you were worried for my well-being. I _did_ have a flu (and it SUCKED) but I was much better in less than two weeks. **

**I got to bring out another book on this site, which is called To Pass By. And I didn't know this, it is the first ORIHIME AND INUYASHA PAIRING EVEEER~! Which makes me extremely happy since I've been going after this pairing for a while now. **

**Read it please, I have some ideas, and I want to know your opinions, who you wish to star in the story, and who I should and shouldn't bring in. Love you guys!**

**Please review. It makes me so very happy to be back, at least for a while until I'm swamped with work again. I'll manage for you guys!**

**-Star**


	4. Chapter 4

**…**

**…**

Orihime blinked.

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra both leaned in.

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched as he watched. Today was Friday, which meant he was being summoned for work. Honestly, he didn't even want to deal with Rangiku or Nanao at the moment. He would rather stay at home, where it was tense and silent, and a beautiful girl capturing his attention. He tried to hold it off as long as he could, but from the constant phone calls and text messages and death threats, he wished to just finish the work and get on with his life.

_Not to mention_, he thought with a scowl, _Aizen_.

The meeting was scheduled around late noon, and it gave him plenty of time to gather exactly what he was going to say. He was stuck between just punching the guy into the next world or talking it out. He doubted the latter would happen. He almost sighed. He just wanted the day to be over with, and it hadn't even started yet. But the sooner he did it, the sooner he could get home to Orihime.

"Huh." Grimmjow suddenly spoke up, eyebrows furrowed and a rather deep frown on his face, "So this is her."

Orihime jerked, startled. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yer lucky I'm a taken man, Kurosaki, or I wouldn't be up for the job," Grimmjow leered at him fiercely. Ichigo narrowed his eyes at him, "Just kiddin', Carrot Top. No reason to get all defensive."

"How much am I receiving again?" questioned Ulquiorra, tucking his hands in his pockets. He did not seem moved by Orihime, instead, remained his impassive glare. Ulquiorra was an _almost_ friend that he'd met through Grimmjow. The reason he trusted him was because he had his head screwed on straight and he knew what to do when something went wrong. While he worked for Aizen's industries, he knew that he could still put his faith him.

"Whatever you want," Ichigo shrugged, "Just don't expect anything over fifty-thousand yen."

"Yer a cheap bastard," replied Grimmjow, sneering up his lip.

"You're only watching her for a few hours," Ichigo countered, irritated now, "It's not like she's a toddler or anything. Just keep an eye on her until I get back."

"You're the one speaking as though she is a child," Ulquiorra told him.

"Tch."

Orihime watched them all, eyes larger than usual.

"Whatever," Grimmjow spoke up, "But I want to be paid in cash."

Ichigo's scowl deepened, but he did not protest, "Fine. She eats every day at twelve, she takes a nap around three, she likes to read so she'll probably be in my study most of the day, and she likes her rice with ketchup and wasabi. Don't let her eat the cake out of the fridge, though, or she'll have nightmares. And make sure she doesn't get lost – she hasn't been in all the rooms. Also, watch her when she goes down the stairs, she's really clumsy, so she might fa—"

"Yer whipped," Grimmjow suddenly stated.

"What!" Ichigo balked, "W-What'd you s—"

"Yer whipped," repeated the blue-haired simply. "She's not a damn pet or kid. She doesn't need all this bullshit."

"Shaddup," Ichigo snapped at him, eyes narrowed dangerously, "Just—"

"Is that all?" Ulquiorra asked, breaking in. Surprisingly, he had a notepad and a pen in his hand, writing down all Ichigo had said to keep an eye on. Underlining the "stairs", Ulquiorra stared at Ichigo blankly.

"Yer a fuckin' idiot, too!" Grimmjow groused, jabbing a finger at the pale, stoic male, "I can't believe I'm here for this shit!"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo sighed. While Grimmjow and Ulquiorra bickered—actually, just Grimmjow—Ichigo walked towards the front door, glancing at his watch. If he didn't hurry, he would be late. Scowl deepening, he looked down at his tie, sighing.

"K-Kurosaki-san…"

His head shot up, only to find Orihime standing the hallway, staring up at him with her honey-brown eyes, hands fisted in her lap nervously. He felt that weird, hot feeling in his stomach as their eyes met. Clearing his throat, he attempted to make this conversation as short and polite as possible. He didn't want to leave her here, especially with those jerks, but he was too agitated to call Tatsuki and listen to her yell or tell Rukia to come over, she wasn't exactly the _motherly_ type.

"Um, sorry, Inoue," he said, and she fidgeted under his gaze, "I know you'd rather be alone than—"

Surprisingly, she shook her head, eyes moist and earnest, "No. I-I…" She averted her gaze, and fought with himself. Dammit. He had to leave, he _had_ to. "I like it better…when it's just you and I."

He was sure his heart skipped a beat. _Shit_. Something really was wrong with him. Scowl deepening, he shoved a hand through his already messy hair. Orihime was pink-cheeked, hands clenched tight in her lap, and bare toes wiggling against the floor. Her cute, sexy little toes.

He was _seriously_ losing it.

"Ah," Orihime suddenly said, "Your tie."

Ichigo looked down at the wreck, and frowned. "Yeah. I was never good with these." He raised his hands, fully prepared to test his strength and strap it into some kind of reasonable creation, but small, pale hands did it for him. He looked up, startled, and there was Orihime, allowing herself to get closer she'd ever been before. When their eyes met, she gave a small, soft smile in reassurance, before she started to correctly loop his tie. Swallowing, he dropped his arms to his sides and allowed her to do whatever she pleased.

"I used to do this for Onii-chan when I was younger," she said gently, her smile widened, "Even though he knew how to do it by himself, he always let me."

His eyebrows furrowed as she tugged lightly at the tie, testing the knot, "Your brother?"

She blinked, glancing up at him, "Y-Yes." And then she gave another smile, dazzling his eyes, "I'm sorry. I haven't spoken about him with you before, have I?"

No, but he knew about him. He could remember the drops of the water on the windows, the drone of the silence, the _ding_ of the door opening, and then he could see those pretty, honey eyes swelling with tears and trembling blued lips. A dead, dull body draped over a small, bright one. It was an odd sight, and something that haunted his dreams—sometimes even more than his mother's face.

"He was a nice man. He left." She continued, her voice soft.

"Left?" Ichigo's eyebrows furrowed, and she looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Yes. Almost a year ago, you see. I haven't seen him since." She replied, and then said, "There!"

Ichigo blinked, returning to the present. His tie was done and perfect. Vanilla and berries and sunshine clouded his senses. With a sigh, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Orihime was still looking at him curiously as he turned away and toed on his shoes.

They were uncomfortable and expensive, but Nanao made him wear them most of the times. She wouldn't let him wear his Chucks—which she threatened to set on fire—and she yelled at him for three hours when he walked around the office barefoot. Damn, he hated dressing this way, black suit, red tie, and nice shoes. His hair was practically screamed for attention.

As he opened the door, listening to Grimmjow bicker with practically himself, Orihime spoke again, "Kurosaki-san?"

He looked back at her. She appeared radiant in the sunlight through the window, even dressed in his heavy sweats. She smiled—that smile that she'd smiled only two days ago, eyes shining, bright and happy and full of trust. His mouth felt oddly dry.

"Have a nice day."

He stared at her for a long moment, watching as she continued to beam at him. Finally, he released his death grip on the doorknob and stepped in the threshold. With a soft, rare smile on his face, he replied,

"Yeah, thanks."

And closed the door behind him.

Orihime blinked, turning a deep, pretty pink. _Did he just…?_ Before she could dwell on the subject, she heard the distinct sound of something being thrown across the room.

"You damn prick! Quit moving!"

"Grimmjow, if you continue this, I will be forced to use—"

"ARGH!"

_Crash!_

Orihime's eyes widened, "…Oh, my."

"Now, look what you have done, Grimmjow. You've broken it."

"ME?! It was obviously your skinny ass!"

**…**

**…**

When he made it to his floor, Ichigo was already worrying. With a deep scowl etched into his face, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching as the elevator pried open. Instantly, Nanao was on him.

"Where have you been?" She demanded, "You're thirty minutes late!"

He walked right past her, sighing, "Ever heard of traffic?" Unfortunately, Nanao was not quite done with her yelling fest. She latched onto him, following him to his office. Ichigo liked his office, the view over the city, the sun shining directly towards the east of his floors, and he enjoyed that it was on top of everyone else. Just the way he intended it to be, dammit. Papers were stacked on his oak desk, and even in his chair.

Sliding them out of the way, he plopped down, vaguely listening to Nanao chew him out. For the fourteenth time that morning, Orihime weaseled back into his mind—her bright smile, her expressive spice-brown gaze, and her little stature. Dragging a hand down his face, he sighed heavily. He dug into his pocket, yanking out his phone.

He clicked down through his menu and found Home. He would have to get her a cell-phone at some point. He was just about to press the green button when Nanao clamped her hand over his, blocking his view.

"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice was deadly.

Sweat-dropping, Ichigo replied, "Calling someone."

"Yeah," she nodded, "You're going to be calling your father in a minute when I break my foot off in your ass!" Suddenly, she launched his phone across the room. Luckily, one of his plush love seats in the far left corner cushioned its fall. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief and then faced her, eyes full of fury.

"Dammit! What the hell is your problem?!"

"_My_ _problem_? You've been gone for over a week while I've been working my butt off and you have the nerve to demand of me what my problem is?! How dare you!"

Blowing out a huff of exasperation, Ichigo replied, "Fine. You're right. You've been covering for me."

"Yes, I have," Nanao placed her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes, "I've been keeping all the clients at bay. Even Jushiro-san wanted me to contact you because he had questions about the manuscripts. How do you think it makes me look when I don't even know when my writer, my _provider_, is coming in? Huh?"

"My bad," Ichigo said casually, raising a hand between them.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "Heh. Like it matters. Anyway, you have a bunch of emails, and not to mention…" He listened to her talk as he pried open his laptop and logged-in. Nanao went through a few papers, pointing out this and that, and a couple of things he needed to take care of, "…plus, you have a meeting with Aizen-sama today."

Ichigo's head shot up, looking at his editor.

She arched a brow, "What? Don't tell me you didn't know that either."

"I did," he replied, returning his attention to his computer screen, "It's just…" She stared at him, waiting for an explanation, "I didn't think he would schedule a meeting so quickly."

Nanao nodded, tilting her head to the side, "I suppose." And then she grimaced, "How's is she?"

Instantly, Ichigo knew who she was talking about. Shrugging, as though to be nonchalant, he said, "She's fine. Adjusting."

Nanao's eyebrow twitched, "And she's living with you, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And what exactly is she to you?"

Ichigo paused in shuffling the paperwork on his desk, eyebrows going up, "Huh? What is she to me? A person."

Her eyes narrowed. After a long moment of silence, she proclaimed, "You're an idiot."

Ichigo balked, "W-What'd you say?!"

"I'm leaving."

He scowled at the door as she closed it behind her. As he continued unpacking his things, and sorting the papers, he looked back at his fallen phone, grimacing.

_Who is she to me, huh?_

**…**

**…**

Grimmjow knew this was a bad idea. Sure, Kurosaki had a nice little place, and it was fun to fuck up, but it soon got boring after a while. Honestly, he would rather be home with Nel and watching the Sports Center. Unfortunately, Nel had nearly shoved him out of the house, frustrated because he'd said something "stupid".

Ch. Whatever.

He guessed he couldn't come home for a few hours, and that was when Ichigo called him with some sort of emergency—vaguely, he wondered if someone was dead, but either way, he got paid. He didn't know the _emergency_ was baby-sitting some grown woman. And, yeah, a hot grown woman, but it didn't mean he would do this crap.

It was complete bullshit. And to make matters worse, he was stuck with Ulqui-fuckin'-orra. The gigantic-ass brained fucker, who no matter what Grimmjow did, he didn't even bat an eyelash. And that infuriated him even more. Stupid, boring asshole.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched as Ulquiorra attempted to fix the end table Grimmjow had hurled at him earlier. Finally, the pale, shorter male gave up, standing with a sigh, and brushed the imaginary dust from his perfect black pants. And then he turned to Grimmjow, claiming in a dull voice,

"It is destroyed."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed, "No shit, dumbass. I told ya that two hours ago."

Ulquiorra simply stared at him, "You said no such thing."

"I was thinkin' it." It was silent for a full minute and Grimmjow lightly kicked at the debris of the end table—no doubt expensive. He snorted through his nose as he thought of what Ichigo's face would look like. Damn. He couldn't wait for that.

"Grimmjow."

"What?"

"Where's the woman?"

"W-Wha—_Idiot_! I told you to watch her!"

"And I informed you that I would not be able to do so." Grimmjow snarled at the black-haired, watching as Ulquiorra flipped through his thin notebook. Finally, the emo-asshole stopped on a certain page, and said, "Kurosaki said that the woman enjoyed reading in his study."

Grimmjow grunted, taking a hold of Ulquiorra's collar. He yanked him with him as he lumbered up the stairs. Finally, the two men stopped at the study threshold. The door was cracked, and Grimmjow hissed at the quiet black-haired, who had righted his shirt, and tucked his hands in his pockets.

Ulquiorra creaked open the door silently. In unison, the two poked their heads in the room. Almost instantly, their eyes landed on the unnaturally bright girl. Like Ichigo described her, she was full of sunshine and endearing tenderness. She was oddly delicate—or at least that was what Grimmjow immediately thought when he saw her—with spice-colored eyes dragging across the words in front of her, Kurosaki's large shirt draped over her, and her hair that was messily thick and beautiful. She licked her lips as she flipped a page, settled in the large green chair in the center of the room, appearing very small with her legs pressed against her chest and a big book in her hands.

Grimmjow scoffed rather loudly after a few moments of scrutinizing her—all she did was mutter to herself and flip the pages extraordinarily fast, "She's not doin' anythin'!"

Ulquiorra blinked slowly, "…She's breathing."

"Shaddup, Batman!" Grimmjow retorted. It was silent for a long moment as Orihime turned another page, "Ugh! Her readin' is makin' my dick soft!" He snarled angrily, returning to his position out in the hallway. He crossed his arms as Ulquiorra watched, unfazed. "I'm gonna go watch TV! The bitch is borin' me."

Ulquiorra stayed where he was as Grimmjow went towards the staircase. Ulquiorra watched as Orihime read, and then suddenly jumped, before her eyes widened. She seemed to have lost her balance in the seat.

"…Grimmjow."

"What?" The blue-haired more or less growled.

_Thump. _

"Ah…" Ulquiorra rubbed his chin, "She fell."

"WHAT!" Grimmjow scrambled back towards door and watched as Orihime promptly face-planted.

It was another long moment of silence.

Ulquiorra tucked his hands back in his pockets, "Time of death," he glanced at the Grandfather Clock at the end of the hall, "11:17."

"Ya stupid Bat-Shit!" Grimmjow shouted, thoroughly pissed off at this point, "Don't go makin' up shit!"

Suddenly, the door was wrenched open, and there stood Orihime, teary brown eyes, and trembling small fists. Grimmjow and Ulquiorra both watched, subconsciously leaning in with equally curious gazes.

"I-I…" She whimpered pathetically, "I hurt my head, Grimmjow-san, Ulquiorra-san."

Silence.

"…How sad." Ulquiorra deadpanned.

Grimmjow promptly face-palmed.

**…**

**…**

"Good afternoon~!"

Ichigo glanced up from his paperwork, and nearly groaned when he saw the person standing in his office doorway. His assistant, as per usual, was late. Her hair was done in honey spirals, makeup elegant and perfect, and her clothes showing off her best assets. She had a big smile on her face and her sky-blue eyes sparkled.

The only reason he kept her around was because she actually got her job done. Sure, she joked around and showed up late with hangovers most of the time, but Ichigo knew she was responsible and typically kept the company above water. It also helped that she was rather pretty—_very_ pretty—and could reel in any man that she wanted, and that included half the team of Mundo Enterprises.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ichigo faced her, "You're late."

"I needed my beauty sleep," the strawberry blonde replied, sweeping a hand through the thick locks.

"You always do," countered Ichigo dryly. He leaned across the table, handing the curvy woman certain documents, "I need you to look over the e-mails from Jushiro. And then go over my schedule. Cancel all the appointments and meetings for today, except for Aizen's."

She arched a perfect eyebrow, "Aizen, eh? Look at you," she pinched his cheek, grinning gleefully, "You're actually taking responsibility." And then she perked up, "Oh, yeah!" She reached into her designer purse and wrestled with the contents of the bag before yanking out a colorful piece of paper. "Lookie~!"

Only, it wasn't a piece of paper. Under further scrutinizing, Ichigo could see it was a magazine. She turned it around so he could see the front and then smirked when he glared at it ominously.

"You made cover!" Rangiku squealed, ecstatic, "Isn't this great? I didn't know it would come out so nicely. You're really handsome in this~!"

Ichigo scowled at his picture. He remembered that photo-shoot. The photographer, who had been a bossy, pink-haired woman by the name of Riruka, had yelled at him and nearly choked him with his tie more times than he could count. That day had been annoying, his shoes had hurt, his hair kept falling into his eyes, and he hated makeup and the flashing camera with a passion. At that point, he had just wanted to get home.

"All the little schoolgirls down at the shop were gushing over this! They called you 'hot'~ How do you like that?" His assistant continued, practically jumping up and down.

Ichigo took the magazine—he didn't think he looked very handsome, he actually appeared angry, glaring at the camera, his reddish-orange hair falling into his brown eyes, and hands tucked in pockets. He had to admit, the suit was nice, he had liked it, and the background was a basic black. And finally, his eyes caught sight of the words printed beside his picture.

_Next Edition: Kurosaki Ichigo "heartthrob" talks all about his relationship with a supposed girlfriend. Resources say, "the woman of his dreams"!_

Ichigo clenched his jaw, "The hell? What resources?!"

Throwing an exuberant hand in the air, Rangiku said, "Meeee~! They asked me if I knew her." When he glowered at her, she pouted, "Don't worry, Ichi-kun. I didn't use her name. Right now, she's Cutie-chan."

_Dammit. _

He would never expose Orihime to such things. And it wasn't like she would enjoy it either. He could _barely_ handle the flashing of the cameras. And he knew Orihime would probably freak out if someone started questioning her on their "relationship". And besides, he would rather keep her hidden for now.

Rangiku read his expression, and her pout intensified, "You're such a poor sport. You won't let Cutie-chan be in the magazine?"

"No," Ichigo tone was final as he slammed the magazine down on his desk, searching for some scisors so he could get rid of it already, "She doesn't deserve that bullshit."

Rangiku rolled her blue eyes, "Whatever. You're just stingy and possessive. Just like Renji-kun said."

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched, "Stop talking about me."

"It's not like we have anything else to talk about," The blonde replied, snatching the magazine away when Ichigo glared at it with obvious killing intent, "Cutie-chan can do whatever she wants."

Ichigo didn't reply, taking a seat in his chair, "Just go to your desk. You're annoying me."

"So grumpy," she sing-songed, "Could it be because Cutie-chan is leaving?"

A muscle clenched in Ichigo's jaw. He glanced at her with his intense brown eyes, narrowed and dark, "Leaving?"

Rangiku shrugged, attempting to be casual with the truth, "You did say this was all temporary, right? At some point, she's going to want to go home."

Ichigo tensed, "Who told you?"

Smiling brightly, she replied, "Renji-kun of course. All I had to do was get him away from Rukia, hand him so whisky, and wiggle these girls a bit," She pushed her breasts out for emphasis, leaning on Ichigo's desk with a coy smirk, "And it's all over."

Ichigo simply glared at her.

"Oh, don't be so stiff," she whined playfully, "You should've told me in the first place where you got her from. I never knew you were into those kind of auctions."

"I'm not!" Ichigo barked, irritated, "I wasn't even supposed to be there."

"Well, you were. And now, you have Cutie-chan," She placed a manicured finger under her chin, "It's weird. Usually, men would've proposed to that kind of girl. Have you had sex yet?"

"W-What!"

"You know, a quick rump? Making love? Humping? Pulling down the wagon? Fucking? Anything?"

"Shut _up_, Rangiku!"

"Oh, c'mon! Don't be so modest. We all knew that you and Senna had sex all the time. Those first three months were smelly and hot."

"Rangiku—"

"It's just," She sobered significantly, surprising Ichigo, "I don't like those sort of things. I've never been to an auction. Well," She smiled a bit, "once, but I nearly puked on everyone. It was that disgusting for me. And when Renji-kun told me you purchased Cutie-chan, I nearly went over to your house and slapped you. But then he said you did it out of the kindness of your heart, and of course, I didn't believe _that_, but I know you," She locked eyes with him and her smile grew, "And I know you wouldn't do something so despicable as take that girl for your own greed."

Ichigo was silent, arms crossed over his chest.

"Mind telling me what you did it for?" She cocked her head to the side, a lock of golden hair lighting in the sunlight.

Ichigo grunted, eyes tight. "None of your business." But in his mind, he could see the bloody clinic floor and the bright brown eyes that stared at him, pleading, _P-Please_.

"No fair~" Rangiku whined unhappily. When Ichigo remained silent, she turned away, flipping through the papers with a sigh.

"And she won't leave."

She looked back at Ichigo to see he was gazing at her with those dark eyes. "What?"

"Inoue wouldn't leave without saying goodbye." Ichigo said, almost nonchalantly, but something was lurking in his eyes, "She's not that type of person."

Rangiku smiled prettily, "Yeah, yeah."

Just then, Ichigo's phone rang. Cursing, Ichigo stood from his desk while Rangiku watched curiously.

"Why is your phone on the floor…?" She wondered out loud.

Her boss ignored her, answering the phone swiftly, his back to her, "The hell do you want?"

_"Kurosaki." _Was Ulquiorra's monotone reply.

"Yeah. It's me. What is it?"

_"The woman." _

"Inoue?" Ichigo jerked when he heard a loud crash in the background, "What the hell?"

Ulquiorra probably put his hand over the speaker, because Ichigo could hear him saying something towards the room, _"Can the both of you quiet down? I am speaking on the phone." _

_"Oh! Sorry, Ulquiorra-san." _

_"Fuck you, Bat-Shit!" _

Ichigo was scowling already, tense. As he shoved his free hand through his hair, he glared out his window, "What the fuck is going on over there? Is she hurt?"

_"Not particularly,"_ Ulquiorra said, deadpan. And then,_ "Woman, do not touch that or you will—"_

_"Achoo!" _

_"Honestly, why do I even bother with such trash?"_ Ulquiorra muttered to himself, and into the phone.

"Don't call Inoue trash," Ichigo said vehemently, "Just tell me what's going on."

_"OI!"_ Grimmjow shouted from the background, _"Don't go callin' the pizza guy! We said we wanted Chinese!" _

_"Chinese! Chinese!"_ Was Orihime's enthusiastic yell, along with Grimmjow. Her voice sounded off, as though she had a stuffy nose or maybe—

"Is she drunk?!" Ichigo hollered, fury and shock leaking into his system.

_"I do not believe so,"_ claimed Ulquiorra, _"Grimmjow merely gave her pain medication. It was a sufficient amount, though." _

Ichigo face-palmed, "You've gotta be kidding me!"

Grimmjow was cackling, _"Marijuana ain't pain medication! But it helps with the pain. Right, Princesa?" _

_"Right, Grimmjow-san~!" _

"How in the hell do you even get marijuana in Japan?!" Ichigo exploded, the very ground rumbling underneath his feet.

_"HEY!"_ Grimmjow protested, obviously hearing the orange-haired, _"…It's prescribed to me."_

_"Oh, no~!"_ Orihime suddenly cried, and Ichigo's heart stopped when he heard the sniffle, _"I-I've upset Kurosaki-san. A-And he's always so nice to me and so smart, very, very smart. And I b-broke the table…He's so handsome…Like a Hunkey Monkey!"_ She fell into a fit of giggles.

Grimmjow was laughing along with her, _"Ah! That's rich! Hunkey Monkey!"_

Ichigo rubbed his temples, unable to form a single thought beside, _she thinks I'm handsome._

Ulquiorra was talking again, _"Woman. If you do not get off the t—"_ Thump! _"—Ah. She fell. Again." _

"Again?" Ichigo demanded fiercely. Had she fallen more than once? What kind of people were they?

Grimmjow seemed to have found the phone, because he was suddenly yelling in Ichigo's ear, _"Don't worry, Strawberry. The weed only last for a couple hours. It's medicinal. Like I said."_

_Snore. Snore. Snore. _

_"…She is asleep."_ Ulquiorra murmured from the background.

Dial tone.

Rangiku tilted her head to the side, watching Ichigo carefully. He was stiff, phone to his ear, and his muscles bunched violently under his fine suit. Arching a brow, she watched as his jaw clenched before he turned and stalked towards his desk.

"Where are you going?" She asked as he took out his car keys from his drawer.

"Home." He briskly replied, hands clenched in fists.

And then there was Nanao. Rangiku wasn't sure where the flat-chested woman came from, but suddenly, she could feel the fury of Hell's very heat. Ichigo froze where he was as Nanao bared her glistening teeth at him.

"You're. Not. Going. Home." She hissed, and to Rangiku, it sounded like a demon preying on a defenseless soul.

Ichigo nodded, jerky movements and sweat forming on his temple.

Rangiku smiled to herself, _So Cutie-chan is at home all alone, eh?_

Neither Ichigo or Nanao noticed when Rangiku left the room.

**…**

**…**

Ulquiorra tilted his head to the side.

"If only I had purchased a camera…" He murmured to himself, hands tucked in pockets. He hadn't meant to deposit Grimmjow on the couch like that, but the man was truly a brute, and much heavier than Ulquiorra could handle. After the blue-haired had collapsed, much like the woman, he dragged Grimmjow to the living room and threw him on the couch.

The woman had been easier to carry, and curled up like an infant with its mother, and he had placed her carefully on the opposite couch. She was sleeping soundly while Grimmjow snored obnoxiously, legs in the air and head touching the floor. Ulquiorra was ready to head home.

_Ding. Dong. _

Ulquiorra slowly turned his head towards the door. Kurosaki would not have rung his own doorbell.

Suddenly, Grimmjow was up, and aware, startling the black-haired. There was mushrooms in his blue hair, and melted ice on his shirt. "Who the hell is at the door?!"

Ulquiorra nearly winced at the sound before reply monotonously, "Why don't you go see?"

"I will!" Grimmjow shouted angrily, getting up and stomping towards the door. When he yanked it open, he was not prepared for the legs that could go on for days, breasts that made every woman cry, and hair that was made to bury your hands in. For a second, he thought it was Nel. But when he met the bright blue eyes, his lust was gone and he was glaring again, "The hell do ya want, bitch?"

_Slap!_

Ulquiorra had moved towards the hall to see what all the ruckus was about. He saw Grimmjow on the ground, clutching his red cheek, limp, and then he saw Mastumoto Rangiku standing over him, hand in the air, and appearing murderous. He was able to put two-and-two together. The woman walked towards him, hips swinging suggestively, hair falling down her back. It wasn't long until they were less than a foot apart.

Sky blue clashed with emerald green.

Wisely, Ulquiorra took a step back.

Rangiku smirked at him, and then scurried towards the living room, "Cutie-chaaan~!"

"WAH~!"

Honestly, Ulquiorra didn't even care anymore.

**…**

**…**

"Ulquiorra?"

"Kurosaki," Ulquiorra's dull voice said, "The woman has been captured."

**…**

**…**

_I'm going to kill Rangiku. _

That's what Ichigo was thinking as he walked down the long hallway. He gritted his teeth, clenched fists tight, and tried to calm down his nerves.

_No. First, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. And then Rangiku. _

It had already been a bad day when Ichigo knew he had to meet with Aizen, but it had gotten worse when he hired Ulquiorra and Grimmjow for the job to watch Orihime. He hadn't wanted to leave her in the first, and he knew he should've at least left someone of female qualities, like Tatsuki, but in short, he knew she would have him by the balls if he called with some bullshit. And then he fucking learned that Grimmjow was giving Orihime drugs for her pain, which was even _worse_ because she had gotten hurt somehow and he wasn't there for her. And then, without any warning, Rangiku kidnapped Orihime and probably dragged her to God knows where.

_Fuck_.

Plus, his meeting was in five minutes.

Just his damn luck.

When he was done, he was going to strangle all three of them. If he didn't kill Aizen first.

And that was an entirely different issue. None of the extra anger helped him with anything. He would end punching Aizen in the face if he didn't calm down soon, which he wouldn't mind doing.

"Kurosaki-san. So great of you to arrive."

Ichigo glanced over to see the receptionist. Of course, there sat Kaname Tousen. It always freaked Ichigo out that he could hear him so well, know his breathing so well. Ichigo watched as the man's white eyes scrutinized him for a while before falling to the papers on the desk.

"You're right on time."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, sighing heavily, "Thanks, Tousen."

The man nodded, white eyes keen and blank. Ichigo didn't know how any of it was possible.

"Aizen-sama is waiting for you."

"Yeah," Ichigo grunted vaguely, "Thanks." And with that, he walked forward into the room. He wasn't surprised. The room was spacious with a large glass wall in the front of the room, showing off the view of the city and roving people. After all, this was the very top floor. It was the conference room, but there was no conference. Instead, it was ten empty chairs around a long, large table, and the one top chair filled.

Aizen sat there, elbow on the table, his hair swept back from his pale face. He had a manila folder in front of him, and his large glasses were dangling from the collar of his pristine shirt. Slowly, he looked up at Ichigo with his cool brown gaze.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," his voice was deep, calm. It drove Ichigo insane. He hadn't seen the slimy bastard since the "auction" and just looking at him, made Ichigo's skin crawl. "So nice of you to join me."

"Aizen," Ichigo managed to get out as he stood in the threshold.

"Are you hungry, Kurosaki-san?" Either Aizen didn't hear his tone or he paid it no mind. "Nelliel made these ideal muffins earlier, along with some coffee. I insist you try some." True to his word, pastries were in the center of the long table and a mug of coffee, steaming.

Aizen had one in front of him, though it appeared untouched. A smile touched his lips.

"Not hungry," Ichigo said shortly, gruffly, as he remained standing at the edge of the table. He did not want to sit down. This wouldn't take long, anyway.

"Ah," Aizen said softly, crooking a thin brow, "You are in a hurry, yes?"

"I guess you could say that," replied Ichigo stiffly, his tone low and lurking with danger. His muscles felt uncomfortably stiff.

Aizen smiled again, and it was anything but polite, "That's right. You have someone to go home to, don't you, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo glared at him silently.

"Hm, I suppose I would want to head home as well. Especially when you have Inoue Orihime to see every day."

Ichigo's teeth clenched, and Aizen's smile widened, a touch of venom. Ichigo was quite fascinating when he was angry. His eyes lit up like glowing embers, his eyebrows furrowed, and his fists clenched in his pockets.

"Eight-hundred million, Kurosaki-san, is a lot. Especially for just one girl," Aizen continued, as though Ichigo wasn't about to lunge across the table, "But I can offer you so much more."

_Yeah, right. _

"One billion yen, Kurosaki-san." The brunette offered, "And everything can be back to how it was."

"I don't want your fuckin' money." Ichigo said. His voice was cold, cutting. And Aizen smiled again. "The only thing I want is answers." His eyes met the cold brown, "And I know you have them."

"Do you?" Aizen murmured, curling his free hand over the steaming cup of coffee. "I'm just a simple business man, am I not?"

"Stop spewing bullshit," Ichigo growled, placing his hands on the table, "I know you did something. Inoue is _terrified_ of you."

"Is she?" The brunette inquired, tilting his head a bit to the side with a secret smirk, "I suppose that is to be expected."

Ichigo clenched his teeth, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Make of it what you will," Aizen said dismissively, "But I'm sure, with your intellect, you'll be able to piece it together." He grabbed up the manila folder smoothly and pried it open. His eyes shined, "Ah. Here it is." He fingered a piece of paper, "Inoue Sora, correct?"

Ichigo's eyes widened and then narrowed, "How did you—"

"Says here," Aizen said, "Inoue Sora died in Kurosaki Clinic from a bullet wound, left lung, and he bled out. You know," He looked back at Ichigo, "that is a traumatizing experience. Especially to a fragile person such as Inoue Orihime. You were there, weren't you, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo didn't reply.

"She doesn't remember, does she? She probably doesn't even remember how her brother died."

Ichigo looked away, unable to stop himself. He didn't want to break in front of Aizen, didn't want to lose his job. His fists shook in his pockets. Somehow, he didn't want to believe it. Was that why Orihime didn't remember him? Because she blocked out her memories? Because she didn't remember how her brother died? Because she didn't remember him? Impossible. He'd never heard anything like it.

_"My brother left."_ She had said this morning, a soft smile on her face as she fixed his tie.

_Left?_ Ichigo thought internally, crunching his fists. _She thinks he left her? _

"She has repressed her memories. The funeral. The gun wound. Even you, Kurosaki-san," Aizen murmured, "Doctors call it Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. But, unlike her, I do not have memory like a sieve. You see, Sora and Orihime come from a long line of gamblers. Her father, Inoue Aoi, began gambling in 1981, and had many debts to my company. He did not pay it off, never had, and that was when he had Inoue Sora with his girlfriend, Tako Haruhi, and he lost himself in my bill of eighteen billion yen. Sora grew up and began to work for my company, and I concluded he would be working for me to rest of his natural born life until he paid me off, but then, I met Orihime."

He revealed another picture. It was Orihime, maybe in her preteens. She was beaming at the camera, light brown eyes gleaming, and two ponytails in her head, locks, lovely locks falling down her shoulders. Twin, sapphire barrettes he had never seen before were clipped into her hair, holding back her bangs.

Aizen smirked at Ichigo's expression of death, "I knew from the start she would grow to be a beauty, don't you think, Kurosaki-san?" It was a rhetorical question, just like his others, and Ichigo found his patience collapsing. "Unfortunately, Sora died."

"You mean he was _killed_," Ichigo hissed venomously.

"Yes," Aizen said offhandedly, "It was such a shame that Orihime was put through that. But, you know, as well as I do, Kurosaki-san, as a business man, I am made to make important decisions. Inoue Aoi owed a lot of people. And Orihime had nothing to offer." And then he smiled once more, "Well, no money, I mean."

"So she was sold…for her body?" Ichigo growled, eyes narrowed.

Aizen shrugged his shoulders, "That is how the world works, Ichigo. Aoi is still alive somewhere in China, and I have contacted him. A part of me could not believe how quickly he gave Orihime up, gave her name and contact information and even where she lived. I would gladly give up all the debts on her name if she would be willing to wed."

It took Ichigo a long moment to process what the man was saying. First, Orihime was suffering from a traumatic illness that blocked her memories of her brother's death, and that was why she didn't remember him, also Orihime was put into the "auction" because of her family's debt. All of this he could handle. _But_…He wanted Ichigo to give him Orihime, and he would drop all debts if Orihime agreed to marry him?

"Fuck that," Ichigo found himself shouting, fists crunched on the table, "Inoue isn't some object!"

Aizen crooked a brow, "Are you sure about that?"

Ichigo felt his stomach light up with fury, _"You fucking bastard—"_

"Ichigo-chaaan~!"

Ichigo froze where he was, trembling with the weight of his anger. A hand was on his shoulder, a skinny hand, and he could practically feel the ice seeping into his back.

"Gin," Aizen said, his voice deep and soft as he slid on his glasses, appearing completely different. The asshole blinked innocently, "Welcome back. How was lunch?"

"Delightful," Gin sing-songed as he tightened his grip on Ichigo's shoulder—a warning, "I ran into Ran-chan and a little cutie. How about you?"

"Ah," Aizen said, "I spent my lunch with Kurosaki-san. We had a nice talk."

"O' course ya did!" Gin nodded like a bobble-head, "Oh! And, Ichigo-chan, a car is outside waiting for ya. Sado-kun sent me to tell ya."

"Perfect," Ichigo grounded out, slowly removing his hands from the table, that creaked uncomfortably. His stomach still felt uneasily tight, and his fists were practically itching for a fight. As he turned to leave, everything inside of him screaming to go back, Aizen called,

"Oh! Kurosaki-san, please, take the documents with you," He slid them across the long table and Gin caught them. Pleasantly, the silver-haired man smiled at Ichigo, handing him the manila folder. Ichigo looked up, and caught Aizen's cool brown eyes, "You might need them, after all."

Ichigo left with Tousen's eyes following him, and a headache coming on.

**…**

**…**

He knew he should've been worried when there were no cars in the driveway. Grimmjow's giant SUV should've been there, or maybe Rangiku's Porsche. Instead, it was deserted. The sun was setting, and as Sado pulled up to the house, Ichigo tightened his grip around the manila folder.

"Thanks, Chad," Ichigo muttered and the chauffer nodded silently. Ichigo climbed out, feeling more tired than he should. He climbed the narrow steps to his home and finally stopped in front of the door. It was already open, so he pushed his way in, expecting the worst and prepared to punch anyone's nose to the back of their skulls.

Instead, he found a pristine hallway, quiet, and the smell of curry. Ichigo felt his shoulder relax and he slowly walked into the home, closing the door behind him. he tucked his free hand in his pocket, and wondered if Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had run on purpose to escape his wrath. If it was Rangiku cooking something, then she was eating something normal for once.

As he rounded the corner, he was not prepared for what was there.

His eyes widened.

She was there. And, dammit, she looked even more beautiful than this morning. Her hair was still vibrant and long, but no longer messy or in a bun or cascading around her. Instead, it flowed down her back in a straight waterfall and her bangs framed her face naturally. He could tell she wasn't wearing any makeup, but her skin looked amazing, blemish-free and ivory and perfect and supple. Her long thick lashes outlined her honeyed gaze. What she was wearing, surprised him. Usually, she would be clad in his boxers and sweats, but at the moment, she was dressed in a sundress that reached just above her knees. It was plain, simple, with delicate spaghetti straps and yellow flowers that decorated the skirt.

He felt his heart speed up.

She hadn't seemed to notice him—in fact, she was walking towards him, two long wooden things in her small hands, that looked an awfully a lot like the wooden legs from his Prussian end table. She was staring down at them curiously, attempting to stick them back together, but instead, she ran into his chest.

Vanilla. Berries. Sunshine. Her.

She blinked, he could feel it even through his suit. And then she glanced up, large honey eyes earnest and wide. It wasn't long until she smiled, and it was bright and full of trust and happiness. Something that was the complete opposite of him.

"Kurosaki-san, welcome home."

He swallowed, "Rangiku…took you shopping, didn't she?" Was that all he could really say after everything that had happened today? Yeah. It was.

"Un!" Orihime smiled again, appearing embarrassed, "She bought me a lot of clothes. It was fun." She perked up, seeming to remember something, "And Ulquiorra-san and Grimmjow-san were very nice, too."

Ichigo nearly scowled when he thought of those two. "Were they?"

"Yes!"

He couldn't find himself doubting her, so instead, he sighed, and asked, "What's for dinner?"

Her eyes rounded, and she dropped the two legs, "Oh, no~! The curry!"

Ichigo remained where he was, watching as she vanished in the kitchen with a swirl of amber hair. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to _do_? He was utterly lost, he hadn't even gotten a punch in with Aizen and now he was stuck with this information in his head and the weight on his shoulders.

At the moment, he didn't even want to think about it—the blood, the tears, the fallen angel that whispered pleas. That wasn't Orihime, that wasn't the Orihime she was _now_.

He stuffed the manila folder in the couch, under a cushion, ignoring the broken end table. It didn't matter.

_I'm such a selfish bastard_, he thought as he pulled out his emergency pack of cigarettes. It wasn't long until it was lit and he was breathing in the perfection.

"Kurosaki-san~! I saved the curry!"

Right now, he didn't want to think at all.

**…**

**…**

**Yay! It's finally finished. Did you know this took me all day to write? I feel weeaaak~ Oh, well. Anything for you guys. Most of you asked for me to update Her anyway. So here you are. I hope I didn't confuse any of you with Orihime's background. The Post Traumatic Disorder is actually a normal occurrence for people of all age, any kind of traumatic experience that they just can't take, they block out. **

**And I found that interesting to give to Orihime. **

**Who else loved Grimmjow and Ulquiorra in this chapter? And Rangiku took Orihime shopping?! Who knows what she told her and showed her? And don't worry, Ichigo will soon do the right thing, but I'm thinking of keeping it a secret for a while. What do you think? **

**Poor Orihime. I feel so, so, so sorry for her even though I wrote this. **

**I'm a bad person. Well, maybe not. Plus, I despise Aizen. That puts me on the good-guy side. Next chapter, I'm thinking of bringing in Tatsuki and Rukia finally, so they can shine some light on Orihime. I think that'll be hilarious too. Oh, and did you know drugs in Japan are much more "banned" than in the US? I just found out like two days ago, so I used it in this chapter.**

**Gotta love crass Grimmjow. **

**Love you guys! And don't forget to review for me! It makes me so, so, so happy!**

**(PS: Sorry if there are typos. Don't have the energy to go through it!)**

**-Star**


	5. Chapter 5

**…**

**…**

Orihime looked up from underneath her lashes, pausing her chopsticks, and stared as Kurosaki-san lifted the cigarette to his lips again and inhaled. She was fascinated by this. She was fascinated by everything he did, in fact.

Including his looks.

His shock of orange hair that fell into his eyes messily, dark brown intense eyes with black lashes framing them. His strong jaw, and straight nose, lips that spoke gentle words and harsh curses. From the way he ran his hand his through his hair—long fingers raking through the spikes, making them even messier than before—to the way he walked—long legs swallowing up a vast amount of space, languid and purposeful, like a graceful panther—and finally, the way he took off his tie—long fingers hooking around and tugging roughly until it came loose.

He was kind, she could tell. Even though she knew him for such a short time. He never pried, never asked about the "auction" and he welcomed her into his home without any payment. The most she could do at the moment was make dinner and clean the house. Anything to make herself feel useful.

She liked him very much. Very, very much. Sometimes, when she stared too long, she would find herself flushing a deep pink. She liked his smirk, she liked his arms, and she liked the color of his hair. It was very bright and looked softer than the pillows in his bedroom.

Tilting her head, she watched as he blew a cloud of smoke from his lips, eyebrows furrowing, as though he was thinking about something deeply.

"Kurosaki-san," He looked up at her, "are you feeling alright?" He had been unusually quiet, keeping to himself and tapping the ashes into the ashtray whenever the smoke rose over the table. He probably didn't realize it, but Orihime nearly watched every move he made when in front of her.

His eyes narrowed subtly, and she became even more befuddled when he dragged his eyes over her face before meeting her eyes again. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his thick, messy hair.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice low, "I'm fine. I was just…" His eyes flickered back to hers, and he frowned, "thinking."

She tilted her head to the side again, "About what?"

He seemed frustrated with something, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her with his brown eyes, "Nothing important. And I like your dress."

Orihime started. It took her a long moment to process what he had just said. When she did, she slowly turned a soft pink. Ducking her head, Orihime replied, "You really think so? R-Rangiku-san bought a lot of them for me!"

Ichigo arched a brow at her nervous laugh. He didn't miss the way she flushed at his compliment, and it had his hands twitching to touch her again. Sighing, he pressed the end of his cigarette into the ashtray, putting it out. He blew out another cloud of smoke, satisfied for the night. "Sorry," he murmured when he saw she was watching him with those spice-brown eyes, "You probably don't like the smoke."

She smiled at him in return and his heart skipped a beat. "It's alright. My brother used to smoke sometimes when he was stressed…" She trailed off, a distant look in her eyes. Ichigo tensed.

"Inoue," She blinked, returning her attention to him, "What do you remember about your brother?"

She jerked again, as though she couldn't believe he would ask such a question. She was quiet for a long moment before she bit her bottom lip, poking her chopsticks at the meat on her plate, "He was really kind." She smiled softly at this, "And he made dinner almost every night. And sometimes, I would try to help him, but he would fuss to me about my cooking being 'inedible' so I was banned from the kitchen. And…he always used to kiss my forehead," She pointed a finger in the center of her forehead, "I-It…used to comfort me. All the time." Her bottom lip quivered, drawing concern to the forefront of Ichigo's mind.

When she placed her small hands over her eyes and her shoulders shook, he grimaced deeply.

_Shit. I made her cry. _

Again, he thought about how he did _not_ like that feeling. With a sigh, he stood from his chair when he heard her soft sniffle. He walked around the table, to her end, and stared down at her. He hesitated for a short second before gathering some guts and smoothing his hand over her head. Without warning, she was up from her seat and sliding her thin arms under his so that her hands clutching at the clothing at his shoulders. He stiffened, startled. He knew Orihime wasn't keen when it came to contact—and he had his own rule in "No Touching"—but as she grabbed at him, almost desperately, he found himself slowly relaxing. His heart was thudding away as he curled an arm around her small waist, keeping his other hand on her head, feeling the smooth tendrils slide through his fingers.

"I…I miss him so much," she whispered into his chest, where her face was buried.

His throat tightened. He could understand that, after all. His mother had died a very long time ago, and whenever he thought of her, it brought an odd sense of pain and longing for her maternal love, soft smiles, and tender brown eyes. He couldn't even imagine what she felt about her brother. She thought he left a very long time ago, over a year, and what was he supposed to do? He tightened his grip around her, feeling her curvaceous, pliant body press into his.

"It's alright to feel that way," he said, resting his chin on the crown of her head. She sniffled, burrowing her face deeper into his shirt, "It's alright to miss him."

Slowly, she looked up at him with teary brown eyes, "R-Really?"

He thought he smiled, a smile he hadn't gave to anyone but his sisters, his girlfriends, and sometimes his co-workers. A reassuring—lopsided—gentle smile, "Yeah. I miss my mom all the time."

She blinked, tears in the corners of her eyes, "Your mother?"

"She died when I was young," he shrugged, a look of indifference on his face, "And I miss her every day, you know." She wiped her eyes with one hand, but kept a good grip on his shirt, as though he would tear away from her. "Sometimes, I even go home to pray for her."

Orihime bit her bottom lip, brow creased before she tightened her grip on his crisp shirt, "C-Can I come with you the next time you go?" His eyebrows went up, and he meant to look at her, but she buried her face back into his chest, "I want to pay my respects for her."

Just the thought of her at his house, with his sisters, now in high school, and his father yelling and giggling about "grandchildren" had Ichigo scowling, but he sighed, staring down at her copper hair. "Yeah, sure." He thought he felt her smile, but he didn't acknowledge it. As much as he wanted to indulge in the fact she was in his arms, he opened his stupid mouth again, "And about your brother, Inoue…"

She peeked up curiously.

He swallowed, and his mouth started to open again, only for Orihime to suddenly squeak. He frowned, about to ask what could possibly be wrong only for something to connect with the back of his skull. For a moment, he wondered what the _hell_ he did in his last life to deserve _this_—it was a foot, a _fucking_ foot hit him—and then he teetered, slamming onto the ground face-first.

Damn. His head was already pounding. He either had a bad concussion or whoever it was had put a dent in his head. He heard Orihime squealing, rushing to his side to help him, only for someone to start shouting. Dammit, _someone_ was about to die.

"…kill you! Get your ass up so I can kick in that ugly mug, Ichigo!"

Shit. _Tatsuki_.

He debated whether going limp on the floor and playing dead. But shook his head internally. He wasn't a little kid anymore, and honestly, he was sick of all the woman in his life preying after his blood, reprimanding him whenever they felt the need to do so, and attacking him for no good reason. He already had a mother, and she was dead. No need for Tatsuki to step up for the plate.

With a menacing scowl, he stood from the floor and glared over his shoulder at the thin dojo champion. Her fists were clenched, her hair short and spiky, and dressed in casual clothes. She looked like a Chihuahua—bristling, teeth clenched, and tiny body trembling with anger.

"What the _fuck_ was that for!" Ichigo snapped at her, one hand cradling the back of his head, and the other reaching out for Orihime. She was frozen in shock, eyes teary. He gripped her shoulder, tugging her towards him, and she didn't hesitate, latching onto his sleeve.

"Shut up!" Tatsuki barked back, "You deserve it, asshole!"

"Don't barge into other people's house without their damn permission! And how in the hell am I an asshole?!"

Orihime watched them go back and forth anxiously, eyebrows creased. With concern etched on her pretty face, Orihime whispered, "Kurosaki-san? Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

Tatsuki arched a thin brow, darting her eyes to the redhead. She fit the description she had heard so much about, at least. Stepping forward, she rolled her eyes, "I didn't hit him _that_ hard." She implied and then locked eyes with Inoue, "Arisawa Tatsuki. You must be Inoue-san, right?" She held out a hand.

Orihime looked down at her upturned palm uncertainly and then nodded, taking it, "Y-Yes. Are you…a friend of Kurosaki-san's?"

Ichigo and Tatsuki snorted in unison. "Yeah, right," Tatsuki proclaimed, placing her hands on her hips, "I've been kicking his sorry ass since we were kids. He should be lucky if I even call him a friend."

"Lucky?" Ichigo scoffed, rubbing a hand over his tender head.

"Yeah, lucky. Really _lucky_ I didn't kick your brains out all over the floor," Tatsuki sneered her upper lip at him, "You were all over the poor girl. I know you guys are supposed to be _'in love'_ but tone it down! You just met!"

Ichigo stiffened as Orihime squeaked. It was silent for a long moment as Ichigo slowly turned his head to the redhead beside him. Her eyes were larger and she was gradually turning a redder red by the second. Before she could open her mouth and deny, deny, deny, Ichigo cut in smoothly.

"Who'd you hear it from?" He meant to sound annoyed about the shared information, and Orihime looked at him, startled.

Tatsuki was smug, "Rukia. _Duh_. Not to mention, Rangiku-san." She dug into her messenger bag, pulling out the magazine, his scowling face and the big bold letter of _GIRLFRIEND_ on the cover. "All the juicy details on the next issue, huh?" She glanced at Orihime, "You ready for that, Inoue-san?"

Orihime's eyes widened, "I-I…I…I don't know what—"

"Tch. As if I'd let her be in that shit." Ichigo groused, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Orihime threw him another frantic look. He ignored it, "Rangiku is just fucking around."

Tatsuki stared at him for a long second, "…You really are possessive."

_"Shut the hell up—!"_

Tatsuki smirked, "Just like Abrai said."

It was about another three more hours before Tatsuki left, claiming she had to head off to her class. She gave a firm handshake to Orihime with a warm smile and a glare to Ichigo—_wait 'til I tell Rukia about this, shit-head_—and Ichigo debated whether or not he should move. Sighing, he leaned against the threshold, watching as Tatsuki climbed into her tiny car, flipping him the bird, and then sped off.

His eyebrow twitched, annoyance deep in his belly. But he also knew he deserved this. Tatsuki had been his best friend since he was in diapers, and he also knew she was upset he hadn't introduced her to his "girlfriend", since he had done so in the past. Even with Senna, his worst break-up yet. He ran a hand down his face, stress basically leaking from his every pore.

And _damn_, his head was killing him.

"Um…Kurosaki-san?" He heard her timid steps in the hallway, her melodious voice calling to him, "Are you alright?"

He craned his neck towards her, keeping a light hand on the back of his head. Attempting a reassuring smile, he said, "Yeah. I'm fine—_Shit_!" He felt a spike of pain lace through his head as her nimble fingers pressed against the aching bruise forming. He met her eyes, concern and anxiety in the spice-brown gaze.

"No. You're not, Kurosaki-san." She murmured, dropping her arm back to her side, only to take a hold of his wrist. He jerked, surprised, as she tugged him towards the kitchen. As she opened the fridge, searching for an ice-pack, he looked down at the small hand gripping his wrist with surprising strength. Before he could even dwell on how it made him feel, she turned around, a glint of determination in her eyes. Her thin arms reached around him, pressing the cold pack to his head. He grimaced at the pain and then inhaled, breathing in her scent.

She was standing on her tiptoes to get closer, her little pink tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, rather concentrated on such a simple task. He tried not to stare at her lips or her eyes or body. He settled for her hair, the hair that held him captive every day. The pain eased away slowly, but he didn't think it had anything to do with the ice.

"You don't have to do this, Inoue," he muttered reluctantly, scowling at nothing in particular.

She blinked and locked eyes with him, sending a bolt of heat down his back, "But I want to. You've helped me so much, after all. And I want to return the favor. So hold still." She forced the icepack more firmly to his head. He winced slightly, and she smiled at him warmly.

"And sorry about Tatsuki. Most of the people in my life are either crazy or assholes." He rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter as she tightened her grip on his wrist.

"Hm? But Grimmjow-san, Ulquiorra-san, Rangiku-san, and Arisawa-san are all very nice. They treated me kindly and Ulquiorra-san even promised to help me make cookies one day."

Ichigo snapped his eyes down to the oblivious, beautiful girl before him. "Huh? The hell? That bastard hates sweets."

Orihime's eyes widened, "He does? B-But Grimmjow-san said—"

Ichigo snorted, "Don't listen to anything that idiot says."

Orihime's cheeks puffed out, her lips pressing together, "You say mean things about your friends, Kurosaki-san."

"They deserve it," He said, face sour, "Didn't you see the way she barged into my house? Kicked me in the _head_?! I think I have a concussion, dammit."

"I'm sure Arisawa-san is very sorry for that," She replied sweetly. "And don't worry. You don't have a concussion."

He arched a brow, "And how do you know that?"

"I run into things all the time. Poles, walls, and even people." She counted off her fingers, "And I don't ever get concussions."

He sighed, "I think that's just you, Inoue." He raised a hand, wishing to take the icepack from his head, only for his fingers to touch hers. She started, big eyes looking up at him questioningly when she felt the spark of electricity. Slowly, their eyes met and Orihime began to pull away. He didn't let her, grasping onto her tiny hand, tangling his fingers with hers.

As their eyes locked, something passed between them silently, and Ichigo pulled their twined hands down to level with his mouth. The contact was gentle, but delicious, sending heat through his veins and her heart thundering.

"K-Kurosaki-s—" When she felt his soft lips on her skin, pressing against her delicate knuckles, she gasped. He kept his eyes connected with hers as she watched, her lips parted and her cheeks painted a fine red.

"Thanks, Inoue," He breathed against her velvet skin.

Her heart sounded wet in her ears, thudding a tattoo against her chest. When he dropped her hand, he was looking away. When she finally comprehended his words, she smiled blushingly, "Y-You're welcome!"

And when he turned away, heading up the steps, she was clutching the hand he'd held to her chest.

Was it bad that her legs felt like they had been stuffed with jelly?

**…**

**…**

"Damn Nel…" The blue-haired muttered underneath his breath, "Damn vibrator…"

Ichigo looked up curiously from his papers, arching a brow when the man passed by him. His shirt was buttoned in the wrong holes, his jacket wasn't on, and his hair was a mess. Ulquiorra was behind him, pristine and perfect as usual, coffee in his pale hand, and a nice suit on.

Ichigo glanced towards him for assistance, "The hell's wrong with him?"

Ulquiorra stared at him, deadpan, "Good morning to you too, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched, "Why do you have to piss me off so early in the morning?"

"It is a nuisance to come up with new material every daybreak, but I try," The stoic man replied tonelessly, bringing the coffee to his lips, "And Grimmjow is upset about—"

"FUCKIN' NEL!" Grimmjow suddenly exploded, damaging Ichigo's eardrums. He spun around to face the two, fists clenched tight, and face pinched with anger, "I know she has a vibrator, that bitch!"

Ulquiorra arched a brow slowly as Ichigo plugged his ears with a scowl, "And how do you know that?"

"It was vibrating in my drawer, dammit!" Grimmjow hollered, and then hung his head, "I…I don't know what to do."

"Oooor it was her phone," A new voice said, oddly calm for such a busy morning. Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, and Ichigo looked over. There was Mizuiro, finishing up a text. He handed Ichigo a steaming coffee with a bright smile, "Good morning, Sensei!"

Ichigo nodded at the new intern, taking the cup gratefully. After tossing and turning on the couch all night, thinking about the silky texture of Orihime's skin on his lips, he needed a good energy drink. Without missing a beat, Mizuiro turned to Grimmjow, rearranging the buttons correctly, straightening out the collar, and handing him his own coffee from Kami knows where.

As he combed out Grimmjow's hair, almost casually, as though this happened every day—which it did—Mizuiro shrugged, "I had the same problem."

Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest, holding the coffee almost protectively, "Yeah?"

"Yeup!" Mizuiro beamed, "It turned out to be a cell phone." Grimmjow appeared relieved, "It was a vibrator in the other drawer, though."

"ARGH!" The blue-haired shouted in anguish as Mizuiro consoled him gently, easing out the snarls in his wild hair. "I knew it!"

"It's a cellular device." Ulquiorra put in. All eyes turned to him.

"And how would you know?" Ichigo inquired.

Ulquiorra held up a long finger as he explained, deadpan, "Nelliel-san is a very virtuous woman. She would never do something to discriminate Grimmjow's self-esteem, or '_ego'_, as you would say. And, also, why would she put a sex toy in _Grimmjow's_ drawer? Just so he can discover it? Absurd."

Ichigo's eyebrows rose, "Yeah. I guess that makes sense."

Grimmjow sneered his upper lip, "Ya better be right about this, Bat-Shit."

"Trash."

Renji decided to make his appearance, watching in slight awe as Mizuiro combed out Grimmjow's hair, "Hm. So what're you guys talking about?"

A series of answers came out at the same time, consisting of.

"Vibrators." Ichigo.

"Good morning, Abrai-san." Mizuiro.

"I hate my life." Grimmjow.

"Go away, trash." Ulquiorra.

Renji narrowed his eyes, "This crap is getting old, you know. Every morning you guys are talking shit."

"You shouldn't curse in the workplace, Renji-san," Nanao said as she made an appearance, lips in a tight line. "Here," She handed Ichigo a few papers, "You forgot your schedule on your desk."

"Lookin' cute, Nanao-chan~" A voice whistled slyly. Nanao turned her harsh glare on him.

"Don't look at me, Hirako! You're a pervert!" With her nose in the air, she stalked off towards the conference room, only to be attacked by Shunsui.

"Aw~ She ran away," Shinji dryly whined, hair straight and clothes impeccable.

"You're late," Renji observed, "What took you so long?"

Shinji shrugged his skinny shoulders, "Had to take Hiyori to school."

"And your nose?" questioned Ichigo, gesturing to his co-worker's bleeding nostrils. He finished his coffee, ignoring his burnt tongue and mild headache from just being around these idiots.

Again, the blonde shrugged, blood dripping down his lip and off his chin. "She kicked me."

"Ah." Renji nodded, as though this was an everyday thing—and it was.

"Meeting's starting!" Kensei shouted, clapping his hands at the group of men. Mashiro was at his side. Ichigo looked down at her, and she took that chance to make an ugly face at him, tongue, gums, and all.

"Twerp," Ichigo quipped at the intern and she wiggled her tongue side-to-side, using her thin fingers to show off her nostrils.

And that was when Kensei's fist came down on her head, "Dammit! Don't make those faces in a place of work!"

"Owiee…" Mashiro complained unhappily, "Meanie-Kensei."

"You shouldn't bully children," Jushiro sighed as he appeared, his arms around Toshiro, who was trying to get away. Jushiro handed Mashiro a lollipop with a smile, "Us Shiro's have to stick together, after all."

"YAY~!" Mashiro cheered, bouncing in the air.

As Jushiro offered one to the small white-haired, Toshiro replied, "If you keep giving out this candy, everyone's gonna have to go to the dentist."

Ikkaku cackled as he sat down in the meeting room, right next to the slumbering Starrk, everyone getting settled, "You guys crack me up every morning!"

"Must be a good day," Yumichika sniffed, wiping down his seat before sitting down delicately, "Not a cloud in the sky~"

"Ikkaku!" Nanao suddenly snapped, seated beside the bald man, "How many times have I told you to stop bringing this bokken to meetings?!"

"Fifty-seven," Ulquiorra put in blankly as he took a seat beside the crestfallen Grimmjow.

"Exactly!" Nanao roared, "Get it out of here before you put someone's eye out!"

As Ikkaku and Nanao argued, Byakuya arrived, Rukia towed behind him with a stack full of papers too big for her slim arms, "B-But, Nii-san—"

"We will discuss this later," He said, walking towards his seat in the front of the long, long table. As he sat down, he failed to notice the small, pink-haired girl following after him.

"Byakki~!" She sang loudly, slightly startling the usual apathetic, "Do you wanna eat candy with me? Do ya, do ya?"

"I am in a meeting." He replied, shuffling through papers.

"How many times have we told you to stop bringing your daughter to work with you, Kenpachi-san?" Ishida demanded as he plucked the girl from the ground. The janitor just leered as he was handed his daughter. "It is not a good look."

"Bye-bye, Four-Eyes~!" Yachiru sing-songed joyfully, and Ishida glared at her. The two left the large room, Yachiru using the man's arms as a jungle gym. Rolling his eyes, Ichigo took his seat across from Ulquiorra, staying on his company's side and Rukia joined him, along with Renji.

Nudging his glasses up, Uryu cleared his throat, "Let's start the meeting."

_Wait_, Ichigo dragged his eyes across the full room, _where's my assistant?_

**…**

**…**

Porsche parked in her boss's driveway, Rangiku strutted up the large expanse of his yard. The gardeners were there, and they were watching her in awe. Of course beautiful woman as she didn't show up every day, and they were beginning to have second thoughts on Ichigo's sexual life.

With a perfectly manicured finger, she pressed it against the doorbell. The chime echoed through the house, and before the strawberry blonde knew it, the delectably adorable woman was standing in front of her, eyes large and expression surprised, a manila folder clutched to her chest.

"Rangiku-san? What are you doing here?"

Gosh, even her voice was _cuuuute_!

Peeling off her sunglasses, Rangiku smiled wide, "C'mon. We're going out, Cutie-chan."

"B-But—"

She grabbed a hold of the girl's dainty wrist and pulled her from the house. Good thing she was already dressed. It wasn't long before the two were in the large garage, and Rangiku narrowed her sky-blue eyes on the large driver, waxing down Ichigo's car.

"Sado-kuuun~!"

The half-Mexican looked up curiously, "Ah. Mastumoto-san."

"We need you to drive us somewhere."

Chad flickered his eyes to the anxious Inoue, "…No."

Rangiku bristled, "And why is that?"

"Ichigo gave me strict orders to keep Inoue-san in the house. I have given him my word, and nothing you do will make me change my mind in any way—"

"I'll mess up the wax," Rangiku threatened flatly, pressing the tip of her finger against the hood of Ichigo's perfectly scrubbed down car.

Sado was opening the car door before Orihime could blink, "Please get in."

Rangiku smirked, "That's what I thought."

And proceeded to tug the redhead to the car.

**…**

**…**

"Looks like Aizen couldn't make it," Yumichika observed quietly, retrieving a cup of fresh water. Ikkaku trailed behind him, hand tightly on his bokken just in case Nanao tried to snatch it away again.

"Who cares?" He groused, scuffing his old, fancy shoes against the floors.

"It's too bad," the black-haired shrugged his shoulders, "I _looove_ his hair." Ikkaku threw his a disbelieving glare that was ignored. "Even Gin-san didn't show. It makes me worry."

"Fuck 'em," Grimmjow quipped, entering the conversation as he leaned against the opposite wall, "They send me over here to do their dirty work."

"Ya should be glad to leave," Shinji said, sending him a lazy glance as he sat on the floor, propping on the wall as well. He spread his long legs out, "Tousen gives me the creeps whenever I go over there."

"That dude has eyes in the back of his head!" Grimmjow exclaimed, glaring at nothing in particular, as though he was reliving a bad memory.

"Do not make up lies about Mundo Industries," Ulquiorra murmured.

"Oi," Ichigo was there, and they all hurried to rearrange themselves in an orderly fashion, besides Shinji, who continued to laze on the floor, "What're all you bastards doing lounging around?"

"Lighten up, Ichigo." Shinji muttered, "We just listened to Byakuya and Ishida talk out of their asses for two hours."

Heads nodded in agreement, murmurs rising. Ichigo rubbed his temples.

"I don't care. If you guys don't get to work on your manuscripts, the Big Guy is gonna be up my ass."

"Oh, please. Ever since Yamamoto-sensei got Alzheimer, nothing has been happening. You guys should just fire him," Toshiro said, cake in his hands, no doubt coming from Jushiro.

Rukia cocked her head to the side, beside Renji, who was eating his own lunch, "Why's that?"

"Yesterday, when he called a meeting, he made us all stand while he sat," When he got confused glances, Toshiro rolled his eyes, "He said if he stood then he would drown in the water." Renji arched a brow, "…There was no water."

Nanao broke in, growling, "I don't _care_. Lunch is over." There was a series of groans and Grimmjow even flipped her off as she turned and stalked off. As Ulquiorra set off to head back to work, Grimmjow following behind him, Rukia and Renji spoke between themselves, Toshiro walking in the other direction as Jushiro offered him more sweets, Yachiru chasing behind him as Kenpachi mopped at the floor, focused on a particular stain. Shinji walked off, probably to find Nanao.

Mizuiro handed a few papers to Ichigo, smiling brightly at him, "How's your afternoon so far, Ichigo-sensei?"

"Fine," he grunted vaguely, "Is Keigo still sick?"

"As a dog," Mizuiro said pleasantly, as though they were speaking of the weather, rather than someone's health, "He tried to come to work today. I kicked him in the face."

Ichigo's eyes snapped up at that, "That's…good."

"Yes! He shouldn't spread it to others."

Ichigo nodded slowly, "I guess. Thanks, Mizuiro."

The black-haired bowed politely, "No problem, Sensei!" And then plucked something from the floor, "Ah! Grimmjow-san! You left you medicinal herbs~!" And scampered off.

Tucking his hands back in his pockets, Ichigo faced Ikkaku and Yumichika, "And what're you guys workin' on?"

Ikkaku grinned, "Shoujo manga now. Reports asked if you were trying to turn your novel into one."

Ichigo's scowl deepened, "No way. Don't even humor them with that shit. They'll ruin it."

"So touchy~!" Yumichika sing-songed as he put away his compact mirror, "Soooo…"

"So what?" Ichigo looked at him curiously.

The black-haired waved a hand dismissively, "Oh, don't be coy. It doesn't suit you. I heard you have new arm-candy."

Ichigo bristled visibly, "The hell? Where'd you hear that?" Blatantly, Rukia buried her face in a magazine, which held Ichigo's picture on the cover.

"Oh, please! It's everywhere," Yumichika proclaimed, "And you must tell me about her! Details, details!"

"Yeesh, you're like a chick," Ikkaku complained, and then something caught his eye. Strawberry locks, long and falling down a curvy back. He was used to that. But the person standing next to her…_what the fuck? _He nudged Yumichika's side, who looked at him in annoyance, and then followed his line of sight. His eyes widened.

Ichigo was still bothered by the gossip going around the office, complaining about that unhappily as Yumichika and Ikkaku leaned around him, gaping at something over his shoulder.

Frowning, he turned his head.

**…**

**…**

"Woooow~" Orihime gushed as she stared at the big building in front of her. It was a thousand feet high! Almost as high as the sky. She looked at it in awe, before a strange expression flittered across her face.

_Maybe_…she glanced down at the folder in her arms. She had found it in the couch, and before she could peek into it, Rangiku had ringed the doorbell. She wondered if it was Ichigo's and thought that it would be kind to bring it to him. It must've been important.

"Cutie-chan?" Rangiku called curiously. Orihime looked over at her and then smiled sheepishly. "C'mon. I'm already late enough." And it didn't help she was carrying a bunch of different shopping bags in her hands.

Orihime nodded eagerly, hurrying over to her side. She was excited and fascinated to see where Kurosaki-san worked. She had never been a fan of the big city, but as she stared up at it, smelled the weird scents, and watched people converse on their phones, bumping shoulders with each other, and rushing towards the subway. She was amazed with it all. She watched as Rangiku vanished into the revolving door and she followed, stumbling a bit.

When she made it to the other side, she was gaping at the sparkly chandelier hanging over her head. Rangiku was already taking to the person behind a large desk. His hair was dark and spiky, and reminded Orihime of Kurosaki-san's. He was also blushing, laughing at whatever Rangiku said.

"…alright! You're always late, Mastumoto." He chuckled.

"Don't laugh at me, Hisagi-kun!" Rangiku chirped brightly, "I had to go shopping. Oh!" She grabbed Orihime's arm, pulling her to Hisagi's line of sight, "This is Cutie-chan. Say hello~"

"Hello, Miss," Hisagi bowed at the waist, giving her a polite smile.

Orihime jerked, and then flushed a delicate pink, before bowing as well, repeatedly, "U-Um! Hello, sir! I'm sorry if I'm troubling anything!"

"Oh," he waved a hand dismissively, "Don't worry about that. Just watch out for the Mundos. They're here today for the meeting."

"Aw~ I missed the meeting?" Rangiku deflated, "Ichi's gonna have my ass."

Orihime tilted her head to the side in puzzlement at this, but didn't reply. She wondered where Ichigo could possibly be. He was always so graceful when he moved, she couldn't keep up with him. She darted her eyes from place to place, searching for a flash of orange. Instead, she saw a door that said "Meeting Room" in large kanji.

"Ah, he must be in there," She smiled to herself, walking down the short hallway, and down the room.

Rangiku, oblivious, spotted Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Ichigo all chatting. She lifted a hand, just as Ichigo turned to look, and waved exuberantly, "Ichigooooo~! Good afternoon!"

**…**

**…**

Curiously, Orihime poked her head into a random room, only to see Ulquiorra and Grimmjow playing cards at a long table. She stepped inside, happy to see her friends, and said,

"Grimmjow-san, Ulquiorra-san! Hello!"

Grimmjow jumped, spilling his cards everywhere, causing them to scatter. Ulquiorra turned his head slowly towards the threshold to see Inoue Orihime standing there, eyes bright and smile brighter.

"Woman, what are you doing here?"

She cocked her head to the side, "Looking for Kurosaki-san."

"Dammit!" Grimmjow raged, "And just when I had a Straight, too!"

"I saw you taking cards from your sleeves, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said tonelessly, "And besides," he turned his cards for all to see, "you've been Royally Flush."

"ARGH!"

Little did they know, Orihime had already left.

**…**

**…**

Starrk was asleep, as per usual.

He didn't like to be disturbed when he was asleep, and the only people who dared was his mother and sister. He knew he shouldn't fall asleep at a different enterprise, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. As he sank back in his seat, eyes closed, hands folded over his chest, he inhaled deeply and then breathed out, chest rising and falling.

And then he felt someone poke his cheek. His eyebrows scrunched a bit, but he stayed underneath his peaceful dreams.

_Poke. _

_Poke. _

_Poke. _

Slowly, he peeled open his pale blue eyes and met the spice-brown gaze of a young redhead. She was peering at him curiously, a curtain of hair surrounding him. he did not move and she watched him.

Finally, he uttered, "…Yo."

She beamed, bright and blinding him momentarily. "Hi!"

And then it was quiet. He debated whether going to sleep, but instead, stared back at her. "Can I help you?"

"Un!" She nodded, "I'm looking for Kurosaki-san."

His brow creased, "He should be in the cafeteria."

"Oh. Thank you." But she remained where she was.

"Yes?"

"I…um, don't know where that is."

"Right." He nodded, "All the way down the hall, last hall to the right."

"Thank you." she chirped happily before rising back to her full height. He heard her leave the room, and he sighed, promptly falling back to sleep.

**…**

**…**

Ikkaku and Yumichika blinked together as they walked down the hallway. "Wow…"

"I know!" Yumichika squealed, dancing on spot. "I haven't even gotten a close-up and I love her already!"

"Love her?" Ikkaku snorted, "You're already jealous of her."

As Yumichika was about to reply, a young woman came skipping down the hall, merrily humming a song underneath her breath. When she caught sight of the two men, who watched her in amazement, she scurried over to them. "Good afternoon! I'm Inoue. Orihime Inoue."

"Orihime-chan," Ikkaku murmured, blissful.

"What a beautiful name~!" Yumichika exclaimed, taking her small hand. "So soft. What kind of lotion do you use?"

Orihime pursed her lips, appearing befuddled, "I use whatever Kurosaki-san keeps around the house."

They both froze, exchanged looks, and then murmured, "No way," in unison. It was only a second before they pounced on her, eyes wide and questioning.

"Y-Y-You're Ichigo's girlfriend? How'd he get so _lucky_?! Is he blackmailing you?" Ikkaku demanded.

Orihime shook her head vehemently, turning a soft shade of pink, "N-No! Kurosaki-san is very nice. I just want to see him. I-Is he here?"

Yumichika eyed her for a moment before shrugging, "Yes. He left the cafeteria, so he should be heading to his office. It's right around the corner, Inoue-san."

Orihime looked over her shoulder and then beamed, "Thank you very much." And then spun around, and hurried off.

Yumichika and Ikkaku were left hungrily inhaling her scent. "Yeesh, her boobs are better than Rangiku's. I mean, Ran's are huge, but Orihime's…they're perfect."

"I wonder if she exfoliates," Yumichika frowned briefly, running a hand up his smooth cheek, "Hmmm."

"And did you see those legs!" Ikkaku was practically drooling.

"She should tell me her secret. If she's just using Ichigo's things, does she mix them?"

"Don't forget that _ass_…"

"And her shampoo. I _need_ to know."

"Damn, she was cute."

"Kurosaki's lucky."

"Sure is."

"Lucky? For what?"

Whirling around, the two saw Ichigo there, narrowing his eyes at them suspiciously. "O-Oh! Ichigo! We didn't see you there!"

"No shit," The orange-haired replied, frowning deeply, "What're you two doing standing the hallway? Nanao's gonna be up your asses."

"R-Right!" Ikkaku jerked his head up and down vehemently, "We should get going! C'mon, Yumichika!" He took a hold of the black-haired's hand, who yelled out a protest, and dragged him down the hallway. When they were out of sight, Ichigo was left frowning, confused.

Quietly, he walked through the halls, hooking a right towards his office. The door was opened, which was odd, he could've sworn he closed it behind him—he always does. Unless Nanao wished to run over something with him or the late Rangiku wanted to apologized more. Either way, he didn't have the time nor patience to handle any of it.

As he entered his office, he already had his mouth open to yell at one of them, only for a soft, pliant body to bump into his gently. When the large honey eyes stared up at him, he was fully taken aback. "O-Oh! Kurosaki-san!"

"Inoue…" he muttered, "What're you…Wait!" Something suddenly thrust in his brain, "That's why those bastards were acting weird!"

She blinked up at him, "You mean those two in the hallway?" She smiled, "They were very nice."

"Nice, my ass," Ichigo groused, scowling at the wall. Running a hand through his hair, he took a step back, away from her scent and pretty face and nice curves, "Dammit. What're you doing here, anyway?"

She pursed her lips in a pout, "You aren't happy to see me?"

He looked back down at her face. He didn't understand how it made him feel—how it confused him, how she could look angry and playful and _damn_ _cute_ at the same time. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he tucked his hands in his pockets, a safe place.

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly with a smile, "I brought you something." He peeked down at her, watching as she pulled something from behind her back. "I thought you might need it for work. You left it in the couch, silly."

To his shock, she pulled out a manila folder. The manila folder holding her files, her brother's death, pictures, and all the nightmares he had been attempting to suppress for so many months. When he didn't say anything, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking down at the folder with innocent curiosity.

"Is it not important? I came with Rangiku-san and Sado-san drove us. This place is really, really big, Kurosaki-san, and I met a sleeping man and Ulquiorra had his poker face on, like Lady Gaga~!" Ichigo had his eyes on the folder, his fingers twitching in his pockets. It was without warning when he took a hold of the folder, pulling it from her grasp.

She gasped sharply, looking up at him, surprised, "Eh? K-Kurosaki-san!" She reached for it, only for him to dodge it out of the way. A frown touched her face, "Give it back. You said you didn't need it."

She had more defiance than he thought she would. As her eyes flashed, she reached for the folder once again and he held it away at arms' length. He felt that familiar sting of burn running up his spine when their eyes met and he saw the fire in hers. Good. Neither of them were going to win today. "I never said that."

"Kurosaki-san…" He was sure she didn't mean it, but she looked very enticing while staring up at him from beneath her thick lashes. "Are you hiding something?"

His eyes narrowed, "You think I'm lying to you or something?" _Shit_. He was a bastard, but he needed to _protect_ her, whether or not she accepted it or knew. If she even took a glance at this file, she would fall apart, he knew it. So he gritted his teeth, and accused her instead.

Her eyes went large and filled with alarm and hurt, "I-I don't think that. Just…" She flickered her eyes back to the folder and then back to his, "I'm sorry."

Damn. Now he felt like an even bigger asshole. Lowering his arm to his side, he sighed heavily, kneading the back of his neck, "No. Dammit, Inoue. _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to—_Hey_!"

Without warning, Orihime had latched onto the file and yanked it from his hand. Surprise and frustrated—don't forget turned on—Ichigo lurched towards her. Giggling, Orihime stumbled backwards, holding it out of his reach. Ichigo wrapped his fingers around her opposite wrist, pulling her towards him, and she was squealing, laughing, attempting to move away. Their feet tangled the next second, and Ichigo saw what was happening before she did. Luckily, he switched their rolls, and he hit the wall besides her. It hit him in the back of his head, and he hissed.

The folder dropped to the ground, forgotten, "Kurosaki-san! Are you alright?" Her hands were fluttering around him, touching his forehead, skimming across his cheeks, and cupping his jaw. She angled his head down towards hers, "Did you hurt your head?"

His eyes opened, he hadn't realized he'd closed them. His eyes met hers. At that moment, he wasn't thinking of their secrets, and he wasn't thinking about Aizen, and he wasn't thinking about Sora, and he wasn't thinking about his "No Touching" rule, and he wasn't think about the consequences, where he'd met her, and how she would react.

He was thinking about her scent, her hair, her skin, and her lips.

Orihime made a strange sound in the back of her throat when their lips met. He wasn't completely sure if that was an okay sign or if she was just surprised, but then he was kissing her and he wasn't worrying about that anymore. A bolt of heat rocketed up Orihime's spine, liquid warmth pooling in her stomach. His scent was like no other, clouding her senses and causing her nails to bite into his cheeks.

And then it was over.

Orihime was the one to retract, her eyes large and moist. Her lips were parted and he caught sight of her tongue, wet and small, as she panted, full breasts pressing into his chest.

She swallowed, appearing small and delicate, "K-Kurosaki-san…we…" She inhaled sharply when he leaned closer, lips brushing against hers like a moth's wing, "…we s-shouldn't…"

"Shh," he murmured, practically talking against her soft lips. _Shit_. "Don't move." _And I won't fucking loose control. _

He cupped her cheeks in his large hands. "Close your eyes." She did, and he couldn't think of a moment she had been more beautiful than right then, at that moment, at _their_ moment.

He kissed her again. It wasn't soft and chaste like the last. Instead, he kissed her hard, showing her exactly what he wanted. He felt her tremble beneath him as he switched their positions, pinning her against the wall. Bunching a hand in her thick locks, slanting his mouth overs hers, little bolts of electricity igniting in his chest and stomach, and to his brain, frying his thoughts and reason.

Orihime was timid when she kissed, her lips parting under his, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when his tongue touched hers. She hesitated before their tongues tangled deliciously, the pure taste of her enough to send him tumbling down a road of berries, vanilla, and _her_. That seemed to ignite something inside of her, because the next second, she was trailing her hands from his jaw, down his neck, and gripping his tie, tugging him closer with a low, sensual moan.

He lost it.

He wasn't sure when he pinned her with his body, curves pressing into his hard body. She was writhing, as though she didn't know what to do with such an onslaught of sensations. He could definitely fix that. His hands found her hands, kneading the delectable flesh, pulling her even closer to where he wanted to her. Her legs parted, enough for him to slide through, her sundress lifting a bit. He left her mouth, breathing in a lungful of air.

She was a deep red, lips kiss-bruised, and eyes glazed over. He licked down her jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses down her creamy neck, silently thanking Rangiku for buying her the dress. Being the little minx he knew she was, she brought a hand down, untucking his shirt and burrowing her little fingers underneath, pressing her nails down his muscles.

He hissed, "Fuck, Orihime."

She blinked her wet lashes at her name. "K-K…_Ichigo_."

He dove for her lips against. She responded eagerly, dragging her nails up his chest, and to his back while keeping the other hand gripping his tie. And, _damn_, that was hot. The little sounds she made, the way she was demanding for more, the way she bit his tongue, and the way she seemed to want this as much as him.

Her kisses were timid, shy, inexperienced, but they tasted like sunshine and felt like pure love. It was enough to drive Ichigo insane. His tongue stroked hers and she sunk her nails into the curve of his shoulder. He hissed, sealing his mouth over hers once again.

Just as Ichigo was about to lift her up for better contact, there was a

_Knock. Knock. _

The couple froze. Orihime whimpered when Ichigo's hands loosened on her right thigh and lower back. Their lips parted. Orihime's lips were wet, and she was panting little, hot breaths on his throat as her head fell.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he wrapped an arm around her, cursing when she shifted, her hands burrowing underneath his wrinkled up button-down to touch his skin. His muscles tightened at her touch. Scowling at the door, he wished whoever was there would die.

"What?" He managed to grind through clenched teeth.

Nanao's voice came from the other side of the door, "Ichigo? Are you in there?" When he didn't reply, merely cursed, she said, "Aizen's here. He said he's sorry for missing the meeting. He's heading up now."

And then she was gone.

"A…Aizen?"

He wasn't aware Orihime was trembling until he got his lungs to work again.

**…**

**…**

**Yay! Another chapter finished! So, so, so, so, so sorry for the late update. Recently, I've just dropped out of high school. Well, not really. Haha! I'm in a homeschool program, and I'm graduating within the next month. My grandmother is very sick, breast cancer, type four and unable to cure, so I decided to stay home with her. It was my choice and my mom respects my decision, thank you.**

**Also, I had a really fun interview with Tea In Sugar, and I was kind of busy with that. Not her fault though! I always get sidetracked by little things. Anywaays, I hope you liked this chapter. Ichihime goodness. Now that I've got the kiss out of the way, I plan to work with this sexual tension. UGGHHH! So many ideas! My mind is soooo dirty~! **

**Oh! I just got this. Um, I think I put too much humor in this story, or maybe it's just me...? Well, anyways, the point of this chapter was to show how it was for Orihime to meet everybody with the Ichihime "Kiss". Sooo...yeah...**

**-Star**

* * *

**Also, many of you PM'd me. It…was, um…really interesting what your questions were, and here I go, answering them: **

**How tall are you? **_Right now? 5'2. Don't tease me. _

**Do you have a boyfriend? **_Not at the moment. I kind of just got out of a relationship._

**Where do you live? **_(stalkers) Georgia. Just Georgia. (…stalkers)_

**Now, onto the shipping questions. **

**Inuyasha and Kagome? **_YESYESYESYES!_ –_justhavesexalreadyyoudumbass eswaitedforever!_-

**Lucy and Nastu?** _Yeah. Definitely. I love those two. _

**Ichigo and Rukia? **_…Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP. _

**Ichigo and Orihime? **_Dude, do you see what I write? YES! FIVE LIFETIMES ALL THE WAY! –sexysexysexysexysexylovelove love-_

**Orihime and Ulquiorra? **_YESYESYES! –sogoodtogethergreatchemistry funny-_

**Gajeel and Levy? **_Yeaup! Put them together! BAM! YES!_

**Uryu and Orihime? **_What? Huh? What? No._

**Grimmjow and Orihime? **_–blushes- shut up. –giggles-_

**Renji and Rukia? **_Just get married already, dammit. _

**Tomoe and Nanami?**_ OTP. Don't ever try to break it up… -holds up watergun- EVER._

**Misty and Ash? **_Whaaa….I have to rewatch it. So childhood OTP, bro._

**Gin and Rangiku? **_–sniffles-…I need a moment. _

**Yoruichi and Soi Fon? **_…HAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAAHA! –wipes eye-_

**Sesshomaru and Kagura:**_ -throws money- If I pay you, will you make a sequel for them? Who can draw?!_

**Rapunzel and Eugene? **_Love them, happy ending foreverrrrr~!_

**Rapunzel and Jack Frost? **_MY FEEEEEEELLLS~! Love them. _

**Karin and Hitsugaya?**_ Isn't he, like, fifty? Exactly why Ichiruki won't work._

**Naruto and Sakura? **_Whatever gets you up in the morning, bro._

**Hitsuguya and Momo?**_ FRIIIIIIIIIIIENNNNNNNNNDS…with benefits. ;)_

**Kikyo and Inuyasha? **_Died. Just like her. Oops. –pushes mean part of me down a hole-_

**Ichigo with guys?**_ –licks-_

**Sesshomaru and Kagome?**_ No. Body. Cares._

**Grimmjow and Nel? **_–takes off shirt- MY BODY IS READDDYYYYYY~!_

**Chad and Ishida? **_…what._

**Tatsuki and Chad or Ishida: **_…what._

**Haru and Shizuku? **_First of all, he punched her in the face. Did anybody else notice that?! But yeah, I would take Haru home with me. No matter how many times he punched me in the face either. –shrugs-_

**Urahara and Yoruichi? **_I can dig it. _

**Sesshomaru and Rin (grown up)? **_YES! FUCKIN' ADORABLE! Seriously, someone write the sequel? Any takers…? Please._

**Byakuya and Rukia? **_Shut up. Right now. Just…just go away. _

**Gray and Juvia? **_–drools- Nah, nah. Just Gray. Jesus, baby, STRIP!_

**Erza and Natsu? **_…Eat. My. Toe. I HATE YOU!_

**Oh, sorry. –buries mean part-**

* * *

**Well'p I hope that helped you guys on knowing me. I was kind of surprised when, like, ten of you asked me who I shipped, so I decided to put it on my chapter, rather than reply. Thanks, though. Love you guys a lot. **

**And please, tell me who you ship too and if you agree with me. Or don't. Eat my toe, bro. Darn, I wish FF would let me use some GIF's so I could show you exactly how I feel. Ask any questions you want, my OTP, ships, anything. I have nothing to hide, but my address. **

**LOVE YOU GUYS~! AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIIIIEEWWW!**

**-Star **


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